Veela Descendant
by Meany
Summary: HPDM Summer after the events in the DoM. Draco receives news about his unexpected heritage and struggles to choose a mate between the few candidates... And just where has the Golden Boy of Gryffindor dissappeared? NB!Slash&Het. Ollivander-bashing. OOCnes
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Do not own. Even the plot is copied, and recopied, and triple-copied.

**AN:** This story was planned to be just "your another veela fic", but it changed on the way. So I will post some warnings for the new readers of the story.

1. The romance and veela part of the story is still present, but is not the main part.

2. Harry has an identity change and is very much OOC.

3. The story is Harry-centric.

**Chapter 1**

It was a foul-foul day that he returned to the Manor. Another Hogwarts' school year was over. Several incidents of glory and power over Potter as a member of the Inquisitional Squad and later… his father's swift conviction to Azkaban. _Of course_, he had been bitter and insulted the four-eyed git who himself appeared to be quite touchy. Hence, his transformation into something inconceivable. He was left in shame to wait for somebody to cure him and eventually ended up in St. Mungo's. And only now, the day after, he was at home.

It was eerily silent. Mother had closed up in her private quarters, probably drinking herself into mindless stupor. Elves were even more unnoticeable than before, and all the guests and distant cousins vacated the place immediately after hearing the embarrassing news.

And just in a few days was his sixteen's birthday.

Draco always thought that the day that he didn't have to participate in a great gala party would be a joyous one, but reality always shatters expectations.

So here he was, lying on his king-sized bed and sulking.

Twirp. Twirp-twirp!

What the fuck was that? Who dared sent him an owl at such a moment?

There, on the window-sill, sat not an owl, but some magical messenger invention that only vaguely resembled a bird. And it twirped again. Blasted thing.

"Okay-okay, what do you have, you orange beast of hell?"

"Twirp?!"

"Yeah-yeah, just give it to me, baby…"

The boy snatched the envelope with a practiced gesture and the creation promptly disappeared. Draco sighed. Here we go…

_Dear son,.._

The letter fell out of his hand, so great was his surprise. He would never in a million years have imagined that the mighty Lucius Malfoy would someday use an ultra-orange messenger. That was so beneath the Malfoy family – no taste whatsoever.

The boy picked up the piece of parchment and continued his reading.

_Dear son,_

_If you are reading this, then I, for one reason or another, will not be present on your sixteen's birthday. Every birthday is as important as another, but your sixteen's birthday will have more consequences that you would have imagined. You see, son, about a dozen generations ago a veela married into the Malfoy family._

Draco gasped.

_Yes, indeed, we are not as pure as we like to claim. But despair not, our legacy is different from the pureblooded veela animal instincts and all-consuming need to find and serve a mate. Firstly, we can choose a mate from candidates, and even one perfect for ourselves we can refuse to acknowledge. Though soul-mate pairs rarely ever happen, even within the veela conclave society. They also have to do with the next best choice. After your sixteen's birthday you'll be able to analyze the candidates' desirability: see auras around people and smell superficial pheromones. As it pains me to say – just go with the instinct. _

_Secondly, through our mate our power grows. Naturally, it is supposed to be used to protect the mate, but being not pureblooded veelas we choose what the power is used for. _

_Your mother is such a mate for me. When I turned sixteen and searched for a mate I discovered several candidates, some more desirable than Narcissa Black, some less. But 'Cissy proved to be the golden middle - a politically and socially acceptable choice, a beauty and an easy one to control._

_In theory, you don't have to marry your mate and can just be an associate in order to stay in close proximity. Of course, the more intimate and oft the contact, the more powerful will be the boost to your magic._

_In order to establish the bond, you have to kiss your chosen and say "vinura tu ao", which means "you're mine" in that barbarian bird-language. It is advisable to complete the bond with intercourse but that initializing bond kiss is sufficient for three fourths of the total power boost, providing you daily or at least weekly interact with the target._

_Both complete and incomplete bonds do not require of you fidelity._

_You also need to know that on the day of your birthday your physical structure will slightly change and even more in the following two months. All in all, you will become more attractive, but you won't be able to hypnotize and control your admirers like simple puppets as some original veelas do. _

_Choose wisely, my son._

_Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Lord of the Malfoy Manor._

_p.s. This letter will self-destruct in an hour. Do not try to make a copy._

Draco remained seated on the bed for another fifteen minutes, staring dumbly and at the disgusting paper in his hands. Then he realized that the clock was clearly ticking – he did have a large one on the wall - and reread the letter a second time.

Power boost and more attractive appearance? He could do with that. Disadvantages? None.

Life was suddenly looking up.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Here it is… The next chapter of my ramblings…

**Animegurl088**, **miss quirky bookworm**, and **wolfawaken** – thank you for your attention. This chapter is for you. Have fun reading it. Or rather I hope you will.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Finally, it was the end of summer. Hogwarts' Express was leaving today in a few hours. Draco looked at himself in the mirror to double-check his appearance. He looked very different. He grew to an imposing height of 6'2 feet, his shoulders broadened and muscles became even more toned. The body structure just screamed power but was at the same time perfectly proportional and not an ounce bulky. The hair was cut short (he did not appreciate waking up to ankle-length hair just after his birthday) and its shade lightened to white-blond. His eyes were, though, one of his most outstanding features – two symmetric pools of molten silver. All in all, he looked plainly gorgeous. Many female and male drooled heavily after him even seeing him in passing, but very few of them were candidates.

So far, he'd found only two candidates: a promiscuous French girl who faintly smelled of lilies and whose aura was light blue with rose highlights - fairly desirable but definitely not a mate material – and amazingly enough, one and only of his true friends - Blaise Zabini. The boy was doomed to look pretty, had a rather strong aura of violet and smelled of ginger.

And that was all. None of the other children of the pureblooded circle seemed to meet his selective veela senses. And not only children, none of the elders were in the least bit attractive either. Voldemort and other DEs with their families, who decided to hang out in the east wing of the Malfoy Manor, were also quite useless for his purposes.

Blaise was the best choice so far. But, despite his pretty face, Zabini heir was a firm heterosexual male and would not be persuaded otherwise. Many tried and miserably failed. So, in this case he'll just have to do with a partial bond. And he wanted a full one.

Was he doomed to pine after some overachiver Mudblood then? The Weaslette or the like? He even tried to imagine what it would be like if Potter proved to be a candidate. Nah, he would probably sick himself on the git's disgustingly red-and-gold Gryffindor aura. But it still remained to be seen. The whole school of hormone driven teenagers was within his grasp.

* * *

Dinnertime. A wonderful welcoming to school feast. All things sweet and fuzzy – yack. And still no luck in mate search. No more Slytherins were candidates.

Draco sighed. He had to get on with the other, not so easily acceptable choices. Namely – the other three houses.

He was so engrossed in his smell surfing – yes, there was a faint vanilla smell coming from the Ravenclaw table – that he didn't hear the increasing commotion and missed Blaise's question.

"Draco!"

Well, the nudge still worked.

"What?!"

"Where d'you reckon is Potter?"

"What do you mean where is Potter? Isn't he… So he isn't."

Draco finally turned his gaze towards the Gryffindor table, where the remaining two parts of the Golden Trio were looking frantic and agitated. The other population of the Great Hall was beginning to stress as well.

"Where is Potter?"

Ah, thank you, Morgana, for the imbecile who was uncouth enough to voice, or rather shout, the question of the day.

Dumbledore in his full long-bearded glory stood up and addressed the suddenly attentive students.

"Dear students, do not worry, Mr. Potter will join us within a week. Now, as the dinnertime is over, please proceed to your dorms. Prefects, the first years are all yours."

The headmaster's eyes went into an overdrive twinkle blast and most of the hall immediately became their normal docile selves and began preparing to leave.

"_That_… was not persuasive. I bet, the coot has no idea where his golden boy got lost."

Draco silently nodded in agreement. Both Weasley and Granger calmed down… a bit and didn't look terribly pacified. And for perceptive people that meant that something was very-very wrong.

"Do you think the DL finally got to him?"

"Nah, the dude and the gang had a revel yesterday night. Even the anti-hangover potions won't help them to do anything productive at the moment…"

Vanilla… He stopped and frantically caught the passing by person on the wrist.

"Fuck, Lovegood?!"

He was staring in shock at the swirling tornado of pale multi-colour snowflakes. That was one freaky aura…

"Oh, good evening, Draco. Do you know that Krogglers are hiding in your robe pockets? Don't let them get to you. Nasty biters, that they are," the girl nodded solemnly to her own thoughts and floated away.

Draco's grip on her hand loosened and he rolled his eyes:

"Whatever, Lovegood. Just… be on your way. Good night."

"Good night, Draco. Beware the big bug, he'll try to snatch you, don't let him…"

"Yeah-yeah," when did a bug have a sex? He? Crazy – that one.

"Why are you talking to the freak, Drakie-Poo? Planning to hex her?"

Oh, sweet Jesus and all saints! - forgive Morgana for muggle phrases – Just kill the dog, it's suffering…

And that was Pansy laughing behind his back. The prophesied future Mrs. Malfoy, slut, pug and just not a nice person. Thankfully, she was not a candidate, never was and never would be…

"Poonsy-moonsy, don't you have other people to haunt?"

"But, Draco…"

The boy carelessly left her standing in the hall and caught up with amused Blaise. He could swear he felt the pout forming on Pansy's exquisite face behind his back. And what a pout that was… Ever seen a pug pout? No? Just hope, you never will.

Lovegood? Draco began to seriously doubt his "instincts" sensibility. He could actually see that there was some beauty beneath the crap, sorry, bottle caps, but… Lovegood? Just no… NO.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** So here goes the first chapter from HP's side. Have a nice reading.

**SeulWolfe**, indeed, more is coming.

**miss quirky bookworm**, I do wonder it myself, can't wait to write their interactions, but it will be at least two more chapters solely from Harry's POV before that.

**YueYoukaiEclipse**, thanks, I tried to make it funny. Glad that someone shares my humour.

**Animehpgurl**, thank you.

**Petunia Potter**, I'll try to update regularly, but no promise. 'Cause I know I cannot keep to my deadlines…

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Around the middle of the summer, just two weeks before his birthday, Harry did a very rebellious and egoistic thing. One evening after completing tenuous chores and being yelled at by the Dursleys and not getting even a scrap of food, he said, "Fuck it!" The Dursleys were a little surprised when they saw the boy run off in a huff with all of his unnatural belongings. Petunia even had the gall to have a fit about how Dumbledore will not approve… Further conversation will be omitted due to the high use of emotional expletives and the unseemly sight of Vernon's purple face. In the end, it was agreed that it was best for Harry to get out till the next summer.

So here he was, standing in the middle of London wondering what he should do next. Some of his plans were unquestionable: relearn the contents of his previous classes, get a head start on the sixth year and then just absorb any kind of information that would help him in his fight against the snake-face, or more like survival despite the maniac's constant attacks. The man was just obsessed, Harry could see why now, but still a nutcase. Perhaps, that was even a good point – being mad as he was now, Voldemort was also less logical, less smart, less organized. Due to the Dark Lord's insanity they had more time. Don't be mistaken, Harry did know that Tom was brilliant even in this state and dangerous as hell, just less successful than he _could_ be.

But enough of that… What he needed was a quiet place to stay 24/7 and where they had simple but healthy foods. And it would be a big plus if nearby was a magical bookstore or the like. And finally, he did need to not only know theory but also have practice, therefore a legal or illegal and untraceable way to use his magic wouldn't be amiss.

Just as the last thought passed through his mind, an owl swooped down from the sky and onto him. Harry tried to escape the vicious looking claws but failed and the satisfied owl perched itself firmly on his shoulder. The boy winced, he was sure there were now some bloody gashes under his rags.

"What's wrong with you? I've never seen such an angry owl…" The nameless grey bird hooted indignantly and stretched its leg toward Harry. The latter cautiously accepted the letter.

Harry decided to move to a less crowded street. Preferably some empty corner…Ah, there it was - a secluded niche in the stone wall. It was a bit dusty and smelled like cellar, but cozy and inconspicuous. Harry comfortably arranged his luggage and sighing sat on the trunk. Here we go…

_Dear Harry,_

_I am not sure if you will receive my missive as Dumbledore promised to put some more protection wards on your place of residence, and their side-effect is that the incoming owl post is totally blocked. _

_Cub, I do hope that you are well and healthy, but I should know better. Sirius was also one of the last people close to me that were still alive. He was family. Both to me and you. Now we have only each other left. Though I do hope, your friends will stay true and loyal and help you through hardships. At the moment I cannot do much for you. I am sent on a mission of recruiting French werewolf clans to our side of war. It will be not an easy trip and our chances of success are slim. This is a precautionary good-bye though I hope we will meet again soon. If you ever need a place to hide remember this address: __Janice Bridge Hall, left of the river, Highland, Scotland__. It is under a modified Fidelius created by me. I promise that it is safe. I tinkered with the charm after the death of Lily and James and came up with a version where the owner can also be the secret keeper. The apparation coordinates are 178:7304 / 19:789. _

_I instructed the owl to wait till you would be approachable to deliver the letter. Its name is Samuel, or Sam. You can keep it to correspond with me. _

_Harry, take care of yourself, listen to what the elders tell you but always remember, that the final decision is ultimately yours._

_Love, _

_Moony_

_p.s. If you receive this owl before the end of summer then you should know that due to the progressing Death Eater attacks, the Ministry decided to issue a permit for the underage that already passed their OWLs to use magic. But don't abuse the right and be careful with experimenting._

Harry whooped with joy but then sobered. All his issues were miraculously resolved with just one letter. That was suspicious, but he trusted Moony and the context of the letter definitely reflected Remus' personality.

There was only one problem - he didn't know how to apparate. Nevermind, that he needed a license.

Harry sighed again and stood up leaning on the wall. So he'll have to visit…

Crack! Whoosh! Swish!

One moment Harry was standing in the niche getting ready to move on and the next he was falling down. It was a considerably long freefall and only after half a minute he landed on something soft and filled with the centuries dust. Harry sneezed.

The heart pounding in his chest he extracted the wand and whispered _lumos_. The light only showed the overwhelming darkness. No, no, no, don't hyperventilate, just calm down… Harry closed his eyes and slowly breathed in and out.

Stilling he cancelled the spell and spelled the magnified light…

* * *

_**to be continued…**_

* * *

**AN:** MUAHHAHAHAHA! I am very-very evil…. Hehehehe… And I don't promise an immediate update. Maybe I'll post tomorrow, maybe in a week. So… Suspense!


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** The 4th chapter or rather a small text piece is ready. 5th chapter is on the way. I'll try to update soon.

**satyr-oh**, thanks I'll try not to disappoint in the future.

**miss quirky bookworm**, yeah, I know I am a bad person, especially updating in such a long while… Convenient? Do you mean Remus' enlightening letter? It is strangely convenient, isn't it? I am still trying to figure out what is wrong with it. Hm-m... I have a few ideas, we'll see. ;)

**SeulWolfe**, not exactly. More is explained in this chapter and the following one. I have not yet decided about Ron and Hermione. I admit that I don't like them much, but I also won't make them into these evil Dumbledore minions who betray their friend for money, fame etc.

**Immortal Sailor Cosmos**, yeah, there is not much yet to make a judgment. ) But keep in touch, I look forward to your opinion.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The wand briefly lighted a cavern-type round hall and the next second warmed and melted… Harry cried out in pain. Great, just fucking great. Now he would have bloody wounds from the owl, burns on his hand… Holy Merlin, he was stuck with no wand in bloody nowhere! No light, no food, no company…

A distant hoot from above reached his ears. Ok, so the aggressive owl got in the same predicament as him. Great companion.

With heart beating frantically, Harry crawled through the unidentifiable cloth to the wall, all the while coughing and sneezing. He hoped that if there was a way down then there should be a way up. Probably. The boy walked in a circle touching the wall with the hands. No openings, carved ladder or the like.

He sighed and tried not to panic again. Maybe he missed it. Perhaps, a more thorough search was needed…

Nothing, just rough stone all the way up to his not that impressive height… And round we go again…

Suddenly, a fresh stab of pain hit his already injured hands. Harry could feel the blood flow from the deep cut on his palm. The boy's eyes became teary. His pain tolerance was pretty high, but if he went on adding injuries at this rate, he would be bawling like a baby in no time… Harry carefully, as not to wound himself again, traced the space surrounding the sharp object. He felt a smooth round stone with a sharp short stake in the middle.

Hwaup!

Harry tried to distance himself from the disturbing sound and utterly failed. His hand was now stuck to the stone. What the fuck? The frigging stone was sucking up his blood!

The teen jerked the glued hand with his left numerous times to no avail. He even tried to push with his legs off the wall… The only way to dislodge the hand from the trap was, as it seemed, to cut the mentioned hand off. Ha! Even if he had the guts and the tools, he would just die from blood loss in this anti-sanitary environment.

So the young wizard numbly stood and felt the life draining from him at an alarming rate. He already felt light-headed. That was so unfair! His suffering couldn't be all for naught. He wanted to live!..

The already black world faded into nothingness…

* * *

The first thing Harry understood as he became conscious was that he was still very much alive and feeling like crap. He decided not to dwell on his physical state too much; it was counterproductive and just led to self-pity.

He carefully took in the surroundings. Wait… Was there really the light at the end of the tunnel?

* * *

Leaning heavily on the cold wall, Harry traveled through the passageway that had opened in the wall in the place of the blood-sucking stone. Light… He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

Soon he was entering another empty cavern. A large orb of ethereal light was suspended in the air exactly in the middle of the room, erasing any doubts about its magical origin. Harry gazed at the unknown object, nonplussed. Now what?..

As if sensing his thoughts the orb glowed brighter and a low voice boomed:

"Name!"

Is it an automatic system or actually intelligent? Well, it couldn't hurt to check it out.

"And yours?"

"You don't have the honor to know my name yet, but you may call me Master. Now, what is your name?"

Harry weakly snorted.

"Harry Potter."

"Never heard of Potters… Must be a new line…" – the orb gave a good impression of muttering under his breath. "Nevermind… Harry Potter, henceforth, you have no name and will be called Apprentice. Your past memories will be blocked till such a time that you earn a Calling."

Greatly alarmed by the words of the orb, Harry hastily backed to the entrance… which conveniently disappeared. In desperation the teen banged his fist against the stone. Even if it was an illusion, it was a solid one.

Meanwhile the tendrils of golden mist were slowly but inevitably approaching him. Harry gulped.

"Hey, orb, there is no need to be hasty… I don't remember giving permission to touch my memories or becoming an Apprentice. And I must warn you that I am abysmal at studying. You would be disappointed…" his pleas didn't affect the progress of the mist, which already reached his feet and was creeping upwards to his face. "Stop, I…"

The last thought, before he inhaled the sickenly sweet aroma of the mist, was that he should have been more careful with his wishes. He did wish to acquire knowledge to defeat Voldermort, but not in such a way.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** Greetings, guys and gals. Again. This is a surprise chapter, at least to me. Call it inspiration. It is not particularly funny, but I hope it is interesting.

**miss quirky bookworm**, well yeah, it turned Harry to an apprentice. I'll explain about the origin of the orb in the next chapter, I think. Briefly, Harry fell to a hidden passage, where he was lured (I'll explain later), got his blood analyzed and got himself into apprenticeship. Willingness for the "orb" was irrelevant.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Time lost its meaning to the young Apprentice and left only a sense of urgency. He had to study hard to receive a Calling sooner. Why, he didn't remember, just felt that something was waiting in the outer world. In the world that did not consist of dusty books, Master's indifferent voice and numerous hours spent in meditation.

The boy unenthusiastically watched his dinner appear. It was awfully tasteless but it did curb his hunger.

He inhaled the food and stopped to savour a glass of water, the only pleasurable thing in this place, except the feeling of his magic. The water was fresh, achingly cold and invigorating in contrast to the stale surroundings.

What was his name, his appearance, his past? And did it even matter? The only thing that was important was the well of magic inside his being and all the things it could do – endless possibilities.

Apprentice placed the empty glass on the tray and walked from his Spartan room to the library. It was not a large one – only five medium-sized bookcases, but every book carried a wealth of information. Memoirs of deceased wizards and witches, their discoveries on the road to better themselves and the world or even to make the world bow at their feet. He only scraped the surface.

First and foremost task was to find his magical core, to know it intimately. To make it sing and play in tune with his mind and soul. The young man frowned. There was a discrepancy in his magic and he was going to question his Master about it.

"Master, I have found my magic!" he winced as his voice was sounding too giddy and somewhat drunk. Magic could be like a drug, especially just after the first exposure.

"Apprentice," chastised his Master's voice that was coming as usual out of nowhere. "you surely took your sweet time. Now do you see why the meditation was necessary? Will you not argue with one who knows better again?"

"I will not argue with one who knows better again, Master," meekly answered the boy, but the teacher nevertheless heard the implication that is was still up to question who knew better. He decided to ignore the defiance. Some independent thought was welcomed. "But there is a problem, Master. A foreign presence, an alien power is attached to my core. What do I do? Assimilate or purge it?"

"What do you think, Apprentice? Does the presence feel hostile to you?"

"It does, Master."

"Then I trust you know what you should do."

"Assimilate it."

"Very true, Apprentice. Keep your enemies closer. I'll watch over you while you do it."

There was a moment of silence.

"Well, what are you waiting for? You still have four hours before curfew. Get to it already!"

"Yes, Master."

* * *

The assimilation had gone well. It increased his magic exponentially and gave it a sharp edge that he would have acquired much slower on his own.

Control. Power. Creativity. Three keys to becoming a true mage. And if he was helping himself with other people's ideas, so what? He just had to stay above the blind following and constantly introduce changes even if they were small ones to improve the technique.

His Master had gifted him with a stack of parchment and a collection of various materials. He was to make his own grimoire. And he did it.

Apprentice reverently caressed the smooth red skin cover created from the lower devil's hide residing on the demon plane. How his Master got such a precious thing was unknown to him, but maybe he would learn that in time. The malevolent nature of it was counterbalanced with an elvin living vine that was in threadbare. There was a darkened place on the cover, which later will be filled with his Calling and date of birth, and even more into the future the date of his death.

His improvements and experiments were already carefully written down into the book. He didn't have to worry about getting out of place to write. He placed a tricky blood magic spell on it, firstly, to insure that his life force would supply the grimoire with enough energy to endlessly expand, remaining the same in volume and weight and, secondly, to carry the book inside his blood. If it was accidentally or purposefully destroyed, only a drop of his blood and willing of his mind would be sufficient to restore it. Thirdly, nobody but him could access the information without his permission till the time of his death.

He was going through the library at a fast pace stopping briefly to practice new uses and experiment. Master guided him sometimes. He could always ask a question, but it was to his Master's consideration if he should be answered or work the problem out on his own. More often than not he was answered cryptically, with vague hints or even riddles.

Roughly, fourth of the books had to be discarded as they were meant for people with certain abilities. As he was no elemental, seer, shapeshifter, dark/light master, Singer and plenty of other obscurer magic wielders, he moved on. He could mimic the effects of some abilities on a less large scale, for example, creating small currents of wind and balls of fire, turning into his inner animal, but he would never create a storm, part the sea, or shake the mountains, as the masters of the field could. It was not his Calling.

He knew he should have one though. Or he wouldn't be here, wherever it was, studying under the stern guidance of Master.

Apprentice sighed and put the final dot in the description of his latest experiment. Alchemy was certainly not a thing to be trifled with and combining thestral hair and Nordic runes was apparently a big no. Hm-m. Maybe he should have thrown in some unicorn horn powder. It could be the missing element of connection to the innocence of the wielder, he forgot to add to the device, which enabled the people who hadn't seen death to see thestrals and other underworld creatures. He was not sure why he chose to do it, but it seemed like an interesting project at the time.

The young man stretched and worked out kinks in his body. Perhaps it was time for another period of light reading, as he called the leafing through the grimoires of particular abilities not inherent to him. At least they were cognitive if not very useful.

He got up from the sturdy stool and grabbed the next book. He was already finishing the third bookcase. Did he even have a Calling?

_Dreamer Ryest's Grimoire, previously known as Gillion Cleytring_

_12.06.345 BC - 20.01.201 BC_

He felt it. A longing. Rightness. So he was a Dreamer. Just who the heck was he?!

* * *

Apparently a Dreamer was a person who while sleeping could see through other people's eyes. Feel their feelings, think their thoughts. At that very moment. At the present time. Unfortunately, he couldn't delve into the past motives and memories. Mastering the ability required immense amounts of mind control, even more so than manipulating magic, and rigorous training. Exercises to achieve the needed state of mind were painful (manipulating and overcoming pain), stressful (managing emotions) and sleepy (learning to fall asleep at any given time but staying in control of yourself). The hardest part was to merge both conscious and subconscious parts of the mind. That was a trait inherent for the Dreamers and their determinant, but obviously the ability still needed to be evolved through hard labour. The merged mind then had to seek its target for viewing. The easier to find were people who the Dreamer had ties with – family, friends, lovers, enemies…

Apprentice couldn't stretch his mind beyond the confines of Master's establishment which in his opinion had the best wards ever, and had to use a simulation room. It gave him only half the real experience. But it had to do. He was finished.

"But Master, didn't I receive my Calling yet? Why am I not free to go?"

"That is one of your Callings. And you still haven't gone through the whole library. You may have improved yourself, Apprentice, but you did not salvage all the parts of your training yet. More is missing."

And Master was as usually right. He soon found his second calling.

* * *

The fifth bookshelf had even more specific books. It contained grimoires written in inborn languages: Elvish, Avian, Parseltongue, Phoenician, Chimerian and many-many more. So he skipped almost all of it. He could understand only Parseltongue and partially Ammadean. He had to wholly learn it through trial and error and a few successful summonings. Each language held its own magic within itself. Parseltounge was weather and healing magic, And Ammadean… Well, he only knew part of its magic. Manipulating, twisting and changing the very nature… of people, surroundings, perceptions. And fire and rock magic. That's all he knew about, but he was sure there was more. He would endeavour to master the branch in time as not many sources on that magic were readily available even in Master's library. He'll just have to hunt the knowledge down.

It was finally over. Apprentice knew it without doubt. Though he was in a hurry to receive a Calling, he felt sad and more than a little afraid. Who was he before? How will he change upon merging with his old personality?

Well, no use procrastinating. It was time to leave for the entrance chamber.

* * *

Apprentice remembered the golden mist from somewhere and it brought his nerves on alert.

"Relax Apprentice. You have done remarkably well. Remember the lessons and rules of magery that you learned here. I hereby call you Dreamer and Summoner Flhoyer. May your road be fruitful and your achievements great."

The golden mist swallowed the trembling figure.

"Good bye, Harry Potter."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** Yay! I guess I am on the roll these days. Or bored. It can happen when you get sick in the middle of the summer. So here goes another chapter. Soon our heroes will meet! But not yet. He-he.

**celestialuna**, wow! That's a lot of reviews! Thank you, thank you thank you. And this chapter is even more interesting. Or not. Whad'ya think?

**wolfawaken**, you are triply blessed!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The usual cheerful Christmas atmosphere was absent from the Hogwarts castle. On the 22nd of December 1996, Harry Potter was declared dead. The already senile Dumbledore became even barmier refusing to believe the declaration, muttering something about impossibility and prophecies. But the fact was that all the tests and rituals announced that Harry Potter was no longer among the living. The vaults and other assets of the young wizard in Gringotts were mysteriously transferred to another account. The goblins refused to answer any inquiries as to the identity of the heir.

The last ones to see Harry Potter were the Dursleys. They said that he ran away from home to never return. Many wondered if You-Know-Who finally got to their savior…

Draco Malfoy sneered at the picture of the Potter Monument in the Daily Prophet. The Ministry as usual went overboard with it. Golden (no doubt there), massive (come on, he was a midget!) statue with impressive binoculars (oops, were that glasses?) and outstanding lightning bolt on the forehead; the hair of the statue looked as if poor Potter was electrified – modern style. The Ice Prince knew that if he laughed at that very moment, Gryffindors would crucify him. So he calmly stood up, rolled the paper and left the hall. As soon as he got into the empty classroom he laughed. And laughed again, his laughter bordering on hysteria.

He wasn't fond of the Boy-Who-Lived, but even in his life he was a constant figure – always there to save the day, to rant about and to fight with. Life certainly will be duller without him.

Draco gradually calmed down. The Boy-Who-Lived DEAD! That just didn't sound right. How? The teen knew it had nothing to do with Voldemort, who according to the latest reports of his spies still didn't know whether to be happy or enraged. He finally settled on being suspicious and disbelieving.

Personally, Draco couldn't believe it either. Potter's disappearance was just too mysterious. But the readings are always accurate.

Draco sighed. His mate search was also going nowhere. He found a seventh year Gryffindor girl Katie Bell who had strong red aura with chocolate/coffee aroma. A talented Chaser, decent student, single and beautiful: sandy blonde hair, expressive features, soft hazel eyes – it seemed ideal, too ideal. Mudblood. No, more precisely a child of a half-blood and a muggle. And a bit too Gryffindor for his taste. He was unsure if he should discard that fact and go for it, or search for a nicer candidate. Draco already had plans to make a brief visit to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as a Hogwarts Board Governor, a position inherited from his father. Inventing an excuse won't be a problem.

* * *

He felt different… Not as dedicated to studying but also not as lazy as he was before. The past impulsive behaviour was lost to Control. He could choose to be childish, but the emotions will never rule him again. Was that good? Was that bad? There was little white and black in his world now. It was filled with colours.

He tested the sound of his new name.

"Flhoyer." Strangely that didn't sound foreign. The young man smiled and opened his eyes. He was lying in the niche where it all started. It was a chilly night. What date was it now? He lazily whispered "Tempus" and let his magic flow into the established spell pattern.

March 4th, 1997, 02:35:45 AM

He could have sworn that it was longer. Or maybe it was. If he remembered correctly the underground complex was shifted to an artificial dimension, so the time flow could differ there.

The trunk from his previous life was lying beside him, as well as the decayed remains of the unfortunate owl. He felt a stab of pity. Sam, was it? He would have to apologize to Remus.

On the trunk lay a grimoire not his own. Flhoyer curiously extended his hand to it. As soon as he touched it, a small block of information uncovered in his mind. It was his Master's grimoire - a parting gift for remembrance.

All his life Sohhare was a knowledge seeker and then, seeing the old ways dying ad giving way to mediocrity, searched for the way to preserve them. The talented mage created a place of wisdom, and stored all the books he had collected through his life and the ones donated to his cause. The wizened man spent another quarter of his life inventing a spell to draw people with rare abilities to his sanctuary. It had to be flexible, working long range and all the time adapting to the surroundings. At the beginning it was just a cave, now it was a niche in the middle of London.

The creator killed himself in a ritual and left a larger part of his soul in real world to guard his chambers and guide future apprentices. In return for this favour the other part of his soul crossed the border to the Underworld and was probably burning in eternal agony. Flhoyer's respect for Master Sohhare's courage and dedication was immense. He wasn't sure if he could do the same in his place.

How many mages had the knowledge chambers shaped, he wondered. Master kept that secret to himself.

Well, it was time to leave. Flhoyer needed time and place to come to turns with his new identity and powers. Did he even have to kill Voldemort? Harry Potter was truly and officially dead. Was it the prophesy fulfilled? In a way Voldemort was the main motive behind his running away.

Ah, here they were… apparation coordinates. Hm-m… He still had a lot to learn. Apparation obviously was developed after his Master forged the chambers.

Still, he had other means of transport. He concentrated on the words Janice Bridge Hall, left of the river, Highland, Scotland and shifted.

* * *

It was not clear who was more surprised - ex-Harry Potter or a Death Eater that was lazily lounging on the hall's yellow sofa.

The man dropped his fourth firewhisky glass and gaped. Flhoyer gaped but quickly stunned the man with a surge of magic. To the outsiders it looked as if the Deatheater fainted from shock.

The mage didn't even have to remove the mask - it was lying about on the floor. So he remained standing and gazed thoughtfully at the unfamiliar face. He might or might not be wrong, but it looked like an elaborate trap. What's up with Remus?

"Moony!!"

Was there a moan coming from downstairs?

Flhoyer cautiously came down the shaky ladder in the kitchen and stepped on the floor of the basement. Did he smell excrements? He did. He even didn't want to light the place. He sighed resigned and spelled a ball of light.

Ah, here he was. Remus Lupin, an educated werewolf, degraded to a filthy prisoner and screwing his eyes shut to defend them from light. That was plainly disgusting. He apologized to his magic for using it for such a menial task - it was easier to do than to clean manually – and spelled the room clean and downed Moony in a cascade of water. While it was not the most thorough cleaning for a person, it sure as hell was refreshing.

* * *

"Moony?"

The wet man shook himself off the water and squinted at his rescuer. Or another torturer? Who knew? Pettigrew did visit him from time to time, so many were aware of his nickname.

However, he didn't recognize this one.

"Who are you?"

The youngster seemed startled, but then smiled, and what a smile that was! Shy, encouraging, and sympathetic at the same time.

"I apologize, I am called Flhoyer, previously known as Harry Potter."

Remus felt unsure. Was it another Deatheater hoax? Last he heard his captors gloated about the death of his adopted godson and raved about the useless job of watching the house. But it was not up to them to defy their Lord's orders.

"Harry? Is it really you?" he croaked.

The young man shrugged, "I guess I can keep the first name. Now come on, let's get you clean and full with food."

Harry helped him to stand up and with a glance opened the silver cuff on his leg. Impossible! He must be delirious. With some assistance the man bridged the obstacle of stairs.

"Where is the bath, Moony?"

"Second floor, first door to the left."

Harry stopped and examined him then nudged a glass of water into his hands. Where did that come from? Werewolf cautiously sipped the water and in the next moment he was hungrily gulping it down. It was s-so fresh. And apparently unending for such a small vessel. Harry had to stop him from drinking himself into stupor.

"Enough. You wouldn't want to retch. Now, bath."

* * *

Flhoyer had the dubious pleasure of washing a grown male. Well, Moony hadn't got enough strength to do it himself, so here he was, playing the role of a nurse. His honorary godfather was babbling in uncharacteristic fashion and apologizing all the time. Flhoyer got tired of accepting apologies third time around and simply regarded them as an expletive. Some people curse five times in a three word sentence, some apologize.

It appeared that Moony early on his mission was hit with Imperious and didn't notice the change. The castor, instead of placing crude orders, masterfully manipulated the victim's perceptions. So all the information in the letter was true and came from Moony, except that there was no Fidelius and the werewolf himself was immediately apprehended after sending the letter.

When Remus realized what was happening he fought off Imperious in a few days, and after a failed escape attempt was incarcerated in his own basement.

"Moony, were you attached to Sam?"

"Who?"

"The owl that you sent to me."

"Oh. Well, he was a nice bird, a bit on the feral side, but nice. Did something happen to him?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "He is dead."

"Oh. How?"

"I am not sure, I suppose it was death from lack of food and water. It was accidentally locked in a room."

Remus processed the information and decided not to question further.

"You do know that you are declared dead, right?"

"Really?" Flhoyer's eyes shone with amusement. "So, it's already a public knowledge. Great. I don't think I'll resurrect him."

"But you are Harry, you aren't dead!"

"I can be Harry, Ry, John, Whatever, but not Harry James Potter. Legally and magically I am a different person now. I was stripped of my previous name and called Flhoyer. You can help me to choose a first name."

"You _are_ changed. Why?"

"Later Moony, your dinner awaits."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** Ok, here is another chapter; it might be the last one for a while. I am going on a 1-week vacation abroad, so there will be no more daily updates.

**miss quirky bookworm**, no, no more pressure.

**Conflicting Lies**, thank you. Here is the next update. )

**Immortal Sailor Cosmos**, well, I didn't try to make it truly original or detailed, but not very boring too. So interesting is good enough. And no, he has no scar, it healed when he assimilated the magic of Voldemort. As to the accounts… Harry Potter ceased to exist when he entered into Apprenticeship, and his vaults were transferred into the nameless account – pending. He was declared dead much later due to bureaucracy and refusal of the Ministry to believe in his death.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The soft morning light shone at the pale face of the unfortunate Deatheater. Moony was currently sleeping in normal bed, and Flhoyer was left with pondering about his future. First of all, he had to take care of the barely alive intruder. His stunner turned out to be too strong for human physiques.

He finally decided to heal the guy. The mage touched the forehead of his patient and softly hissed a melodic litany that didn't make sense even in Parseltongue. He felt the heartbeat of the lying man increasing and stopped the healing flow abruptly.

The Deatheater's eyes snapped opened and he immediately reached for his wand which was missing. Flhoyer nodded to himself; that was a good reaction for a newbie.

The man gazed at the figure standing tall above him with trepidation and stayed silent.

"I wonder what to do with you, what's-your-name, to send back to your Master as a gesture of goodwill or dispose of? Hm-m, just to think of all the experiments I can perform on you…"

On the last phrase Flhoyer's face brightened. His desire for more information now rivaled not only that of Hermione Granger but also of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Combined with his Slytherin tendency of reaching ends with any means, it was a dangerous combination.

"Please, sir," the Deatheater was easily cowered by the calm and pragmatic voice of the captor. "Forgive me for whatever I did. And my name is Joseph Reacher."

"Well, at least you are malleable. Very well, a gesture of goodwill, it is then. Stay here."

The young man carelessly turned his back to the Deatheater and walked out of the room. Joseph was tempted to make a run for it, but something told him it wouldn't be wise. His captor seemed to be in a good mood and he didn't want to chance his luck. Insane people are hard to predict, he knew it very well by the example of the Dark Lord.

The powerful youngster returned shortly with a letter in his hand.

"Give it to your Master with greetings."

Joseph meekly accepted the letter and looked once more at the man. He was not as tall as he firstly thought, even an inch or so shorter than himself, but his presence gave all the power of authority he needed. The features were somewhat dusted and indistinguishable. He looked as if he just crawled out of catacomb. Maybe, he did, who knows. The Deatheater thought about giving a parting advice to take a bath, but decided not to risk it.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Shooo!" Flhoyer imitated a sweeping motion towards a somewhat dazed man, and the latter hurriedly ran outside. Shortly he heard the crack of apparation as Joseph reached the wards border.

Hm-m. Speaking of the wards. He had to tweak them and see if they could be improved. Perhaps shift them a bit to another dimension. Very tiny and insignificant bit.

* * *

The mage groaned. Who knew that all the information he learned so far would be so outdated… And they say that wizards are stagnant! Not true. They just decided to evolve into worse rather than better magic wielders. After trying to decipher complicated and absolutely pointless knots and twists of the wards net, he simply stripped the weak wards down by removing an anchor – a small ruby in the ornament of the front door. Flashy but absolutely useless.

The next hour was spent measuring the size of the territory belonging to the cottage and a bit beyond. After all the preliminary work was done, Flhoyer reached for his knowledge of Ammadean and its magic and chanted all the time walking a route, that he defined, around the Janice Bridge Hall. Magic kept building until he reached the starting point and he let it snap. Immediately the chosen stripe of earth, that mimicked a border, shifted into another artificial dimension dome, while the cottage and the property remained in the real one.

Flhoyer grinned. How was that for wards! Now only the ones with specified blood and magical signature would be able to cross another dimension barrier. Though, he still had to plant a semi-automated program in the artificial dimension fabric for it to work. But that'll take only another fifteen minutes. All his studying wasn't for naught and he certainly loved experimenting.

The mage paused. He still didn't know how to construct anti-apparation wards as he was not familiar with the apparation concept itself. Guess it was time to wake the wolf. He should know how to do it. Ah, a new thing to learn. He was sure that by the end of the day he will be apparating across the place.

And then… Oh, he had so many things to do, visit Gringotts to check that the transfers had gone smoothly, and talk Dumbledore into letting his new identity into the seventh year of school, getting a fake wand... Flhoyer shuddered. Wands were such disgusting things. He wondered if he could burn the Ollivander's shop down.

Maybe, later.

* * *

Lord Voldemort was bored. He had nothing planned for the entirety of the evening and night. No Deatheater meetings, Revels or Raids. Perhaps he could use his time inventing another evil mastermind plot, but that usually centered on capturing or torturing his adversary Harry Potter. He would sooner wear a pink tutu than admit it aloud, but he missed the bugger. He was always looking forward to the purely Slytherin tactics boy used to escape him with the occasional Gryffindor bluntness. Amazingly, it always worked. And, of course, there was the luck factor.

The Dark Lord sighed. He had to stop reminiscing about good old times. Maybe, he can call in and torture Bella a bit. Both of them derived great pleasure from such interaction, the sick and twisted people that they were.

The wards on the mansion signaled to the arrival of one of his followers. A low rank Deatheater. Interesting. Few dared to disturb him on his day off work.

The man barged in the throne hall with a grace of a swine and enthusiastically sprawled on the floor, crawling steadily forwards to kiss the hem of his robes. It was a long way from the entrance to his throne, so he watched patiently over the progress of his minion, contemplating buying one of the WWW's portable swamps. All the crawling and groveling would be much more amusing with proper scenery… Unfortunately, dark lords didn't buy prank products. Sigh.

"My Lord and Master, I am here to deliver a message."

Should he tell the hyper guy that being a Dark Lord didn't mean he was into BDSM with his followers? Bella was a different matter entirely. Nah, let him suffer, no crucios for masochists.

"So, where is it?"

The man quickly handed over the envelope and returned to his groveling position.

The hand-writing was sharp and neat, he liked it.

_Lord Voldemort,_

_I was very surprised to discover one of my dear friends Remus Lupin chained in his own basement. And not at that time of month too. I assume we both know about the man's period. While your faithful Deatheater could be a friend just lounging about and emptying the host's liquor cabinet, Remus proved my peaceful theory wrong._

_In a gesture of goodwill, I am sending your minion back alive. I have no personal offence at the incident, but I caution you not to harm my close ones. I am still working out a list. As soon as it is ready, I'll send it to you. For now, there is only one person who you could have already guessed - Remus Lupin. _

_Best regards,_

_Flhoyer_

Well, that was refreshing. This new character must be slightly insane to order the Dark Lord around or is looking forward to confrontation. Flhoyer didn't even threaten him, just cautioned him. Subtle and transparent at the same time.

"You were ordered to apprehend anybody who arrived at the cottage. Why didn't you capture Flhoyer?"

The body on the floor twitched.

"I was caught off guard."

"On your feet!" barked Voldemort, and the minion almost jumped in the air trying to follow the command - remarkable speed. He was impressed; maybe he would relocate this one to perform parlor tricks on the Revels.

Voldemort quickly caught the murky brown eyes with his crimson and looked through the recent memories.

Flhoyer, in his opinion looked the typical scientist. As insane and excitable as the rest of them. And without a care towards his appearance. It didn't surprise him that Dumbledore's pet werewolf was associated with such a person; after all, he was reported to be quite an academic prodigy himself.

Yes, for a scientist the Dark Lord would be a mild annoyance. He knew that intimately. He had to get used to the occasional disrespect from Severus too. Crucios just got the man more bitchy about the interference in his work and led to threats to leave for Dumbledore. Voldemort wasn't sure if the Potions Master himself knew which side of the war he was on. But his Potions were damn good. For instance, the one that returned him his human appearance. He just suggested it as a project for Severus, no deadline was even mentioned. The Dark Lord was quite content with the snakish outlook; it served its purposes… And what do you think? The man lit up at the challenge and the cure was ready in a matter of weeks.

He will be watching Flhoyer, maybe, even recruit him in the future. Or maybe not. One more scientist in his ranks could be one more scientist too many.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:** Hi, all! I'm back from my vacation, tanned and rested. I am proud to present the eighth chapter. It contains a rather anticlimactic meeting of our heroes. Meaning, that nothing all that interesting happens – no sparks, no sex, no fighting. Pity. But I'll try to get to that in the future.

**miss quirky bookworm**, Well he looked different. Firstly, there was no scar, secondly, there was a dust problem. I'll describe Flhoyer's appearance in the next few chapters.

**the-4gotten-marauder**, thanks, I'll try to keep it up. )))

**wolfawaken**, yay! Glad you liked it. In my opinion this new chapter is sadly not very funny, but I'll try to improve.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Draco was confined in an abandoned classroom with a hyper fan-girl. That called to panic, but in fact the teen just felt tired and deeply frustrated.

His tour proved to be somewhat fruitful. But all the boys in Durmstrang were too gruff and thus didn't meet his beauty standards. Still, he marked Anton Kovalski as a possible candidate. He had a silver-grey aura, smelt like ocean and wasn't too hard on the eyes with his grey eyes, brown curly hair, a distinguished, aristocratic face and strong built. The guy was a pureblood wizard of third generation. The only problem – he had a fiancé. Young veela was sure that he could snatch the boy for himself, but he wasn't certain he wanted to do that.

Beauxbatons was an even more disappointing endeavor. A pretty Mudblood - no wizarding ancestry at all. And he didn't particularly like her calendula aroma and bright orange aura.

Earlier today he received a love letter. Not a particularly new occurrence, but the smell of old wine and flashes of light-green aura that accompanied it were one.

So here he was, on a meeting with his secret admirer who happened to be a thirteen year old Hufflepuff girl who barely hit her puberty. It explained why he hadn't noticed her earlier. Apparently his veela senses picked up only on sexually mature people.

Draco wasn't willing to wait five more years to see what will grow from the skinny teen and was currently thinking how to easier let her down. He couldn't help but to feel a bit more amicable towards the candidates. Had it been another person, she would already be crying from a cruelly broken heart.

He sighed and stopped the babbling girl with a gesture.

"Listen, I understand your feelings, but I don't…"

Abruptly his senses were engulfed in a powerful scent of freshly cut grass and ozone.

"Sorry," he said back to the teary girl and rushed out of the room.

He saw nobody but still noticed the flickering of dark green, almost black aura at the turn of the corridor. When he reached the corner he still saw nobody (an invisibility cloak, perhaps?) but the aura… He was immediately hooked. It was dark green with flashing silver lightning and light-blue veins.

Draco was so shocked to finally find something so appealing that completely missed the disappearance of the source of his confusion. He quickly followed the intoxicating smell and finally stopped in front of the gargoyle. The Headmaster's office. The veela scowled, so what? He would wait and find out who hid behind that aura and scent, if not today then tomorrow. Or he wasn't Lord Malfoy.

* * *

Flhoyer hummed happily under his breath as he breached the Hogwarts wards, which immediately sent a message to the Headmaster about the intruder who had the intention to meet with his person. The young man marveled briefly at the elegance of the ancient warding system, and wondered if, maybe, one or more of the Founders went through the Knowledge Chambers.

He enveloped himself in a light reflecting shield, which was basically the same as disillusionment charm but improved. It was steadier and did not allow for fluctuations of particles that caused an unfortunate rippling effect. It had taken him some time (a day and a half) to calculate the necessary Arithmantic equations, but it worked.

The mage confidently strolled towards Dumbledore's office all the way feeling the distracting beckoning of the wards leading him to his destination. As if he didn't know his way around the castle! Oh well, according to his shaky legend he didn't.

Flhoyer waited impatiently for the gargoyle to open and quickly stepped on the magical escalator. He had a feeling he was being followed and that made him nervous. He didn't really know why.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was not the happiest person in the world. Though he was experienced, rich, powerful and respected all throughout the wizarding world, it didn't help him in the predicament he was currently in. Harry Potter seemingly vanished from the face of the Earth and was somehow dead. And what about the prophecy? He himself wasn't ever ready to fight Tom Riddle. His strength was enough to hold the stalemate but not to win the war. Not without the new shining hero. He himself was one some time ago, and hoped to mold the Boy-Who-Lived to the new guiding figure of the wizarding world. After all, his own prime time was in the past. He would be dead within the next two decades, of that he was sure. All his magical senses screamed it to him.

Ah, so many plans ruined. The wizened man had been prepared to train Harry and get him ready for his destined role as soon as he had arrived to the new school year. But alas…

The unexpected visitor was welcome to distract him from his useless pondering.

The Headmaster peered over the glasses on the person standing in the doorway. His appearance was… questionable. Was it some new fad? He was sure dust couldn't hold on the person in such a way without some magical assistance.

"Please take a seat,.."

"Lord Ryan Flhoyer, Headmaster."

"Yes, yes," he hadn't heard of the family, but the ring on the right hand ring finger confirmed the title. Interesting. It must be either foreign, small, new or a secluded clan. "So why do I have the honour of a meeting with you, young sir?"

The young sir merely raised an eyebrow at the form of address, but answered obediently.

"I wish to enroll in the seventh year at the Hogwarts institution. What would I need to accomplish that?"

"If I may inquire as to how old…"

"I am seventeen."

"Very well," Dumbledore serenely folded his hands above the desk. "Did you take your OWLs?"

The young man in front of him hesitated, "No. I had a very lax home-education so far. More precisely, I educated myself, so I am more thorough in the areas that interested me, while may be uneducated in some compulsory subjects."

"I see," the Headmaster sighed. The situation wasn't new to him. "Then you'll need to take the tests to gauge your knowledge level. I believe I can arrange it to be done within the next week. If you are not up to the level of the seventh year curriculum subjects you can hire a tutor or self-study before September till you reach an acceptable level, or simply take some other course. However, for admission you still have to take your OWLs, which you can easily pass with the rest of the students here at the end of the term."

The young lord hm-med thoughtfully.

"I accept. Will you, please, send me the note on the timing of tests and the testing and tuition fee?"

"Of course, you'll get it within two days."

"Thank you for your time then, Headmaster."

"No problem, young sir… If may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"Is there a new fashion in the youth circle?"

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know. Why?"

"Young sir, you do realize that you are covered in the layers of dust?"

"What?" The surprise on Ryan's face was not faked. In a second an understanding dawned on the matted face. "Oh! Of course! I completely forgot about the self-cleaning charm. It must not have worked as well as I anticipated… I must have overlooked the static…" The already standing young man seemed to have lost himself in his thoughts. Definitely, Ravenclaw. And a spellcrafter no less. He would be a valuable addition to the students' population. And the Order of the Phoenix later on, perhaps? It remained to be seen. Dumbledore's mood brightened a bit.

"No problem, young sir, but you should pay more attention to your appearance. Many judge the person only going by the first impression. Lemon drop?"

* * *

Ryan was highly disappointed. He couldn't find any drugs or other foreign substances in the offered lemon drops. So all the rumors flying across the school the whole time he was here were just that – rumors.

He stepped from behind the gargoyle into the corridor and was about to cast the invisibility spell, when a cough interrupted him.

The tall figure in school-clad robes shifted from its position on the wall.

"And who might you be? I have never seen you around…"

Ryan gaped at the casual rudeness, but soon enough recognized his former rival and relaxed. The boy changed, matured in appearance, but apparently not in mind and manners. Malfoy now looked more like his father – a proud aristocrat rather than a pointy git.

"In answer to your polite inquiry… I am called Lord Ryan Flhoyer, and you are?"

"Lord Draconis Malfoy. A sixth year prefect. Pleasure, I'm sure."

The blonde firmly grasped and shook the offered hand. Ryan hid a wince. Perhaps, he should pay more attention to his physical strength as well as magical studies. He was healthy, his Callings required nothing less, but not that toned. He had to correct the oversight. Wrestling with a pet werewolf will, for example, provide a challenge.

"Are you a new student?"

A question broke Flhoyer out of his thoughts.

He smiled tentatively. "I hope to join the seventh year in the fall."

"Ah. That is good news. It would be _pleasurable_ to have you around. Maybe we will even be in the same House. You do know about the four Houses of Hogwarts, right?"

"Of course, who doesn't! Now, if you'll excuse me, I must hurry, I have an appointment to attend."

With a brief nod to Malfoy he hurriedly departed the school. Breathing the fresh air of the outside, Ryan shivered. Something just wasn't right back there. Why Malfoy would take an interest in an unknown man? He was clearly laying in wait for him. How did he even know there was a stranger in the castle? Peculiar. Perhaps, some Dream-spying was in order.

And the emphasis Malfoy made on the word pleasurable! Was it just him, or did that sound purposefully seductive?.. No, he won't go there, he had many other things to worry about.

Ryan stopped and sat on the shore of the Black Lake. All the students seemed to be in classes, and it was serenely peaceful at the moment. Flhoyer may have acquired a different personality, but he still missed Hogwarts and considered it his pseudo-home.

The Dreamer lovingly caressed his new ring. When he came to Gringotts, goblins were more than ready to provide him with all the necessary documentation on the Potter and Black properties, the latter of which he inherited from his deceased godfather. The young mage thanked gods that the ancient clause of renouncing and taking on a new name was still in effect in Gringotts. While he could do without the material wealth and easily earn money on his own, the spare funds left him more freedom to study and decide his future.

As Ryan had already known, his parents were wealthy, not in the filthy rich wealthy like Malfoys, but he still had enough money to live in the relative luxury for two hundred years, and that not considering the percentage continuously being added from new and old investments made by the goblin manager of his account.

The Black family, however, to Flhoyer's surprise, turned out to be much poorer, but they had an abundance of dark history, ancient library and pretty powerful artifacts behind their name. So, all in all, the young man was highly pleased with his inheritance. He couldn't wait to boot the Order out of Grimmauld Place to gain access to all the restricted books.

Having contemplated for a short time – three minutes, Flhoyer accepted the goblin's proposition to merge the two Lordships into one. But instead of adopting either Black or Potter name, as goblin suggested, Ryan decided to stick to his Calling.

The two rings one sinister and dark and other bright and gaudy were shortly after combined in a platinum wide ring with deep blue sapphire in the middle, surrounded by small emeralds. The engraving inside the ring proclaimed _Shiskura. Runti. Klast. _Or control, power, and creativity in Ammadean.

Not that original, but in his opinion it was better than the Blacks' pureblood bigotry or the Potters' anti-dark prejudices. He himself rather liked dark, night, black and all the arts stemming from there, so he wasn't content with a family motto "Let the Light Prevail." Not that he wasn't fond of the light either. He just didn't want to choose one over the other. It would rather limit his fields of study and that simply wouldn't do.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** So… This is an update. (I love stating the obvious). I am personally not very fond of this chapter except the last part, but that's mine opinion. Hope it isn't too boring with all the pseudo-history drivel. I can get a bit carried away sometimes.

**Immortal Sailor Cosmos**, great thanks for such a detailed review! Yes, Draco is an arrogant prick, isn't he? And I agree, he needs to learn manners and be nicer to the candidates. And quidditch muscles have disappeared during his intense magical studies. Muscles tend to do that over time if not used. Mirror and Flhoyer (don't know about you but I got used to the spelling after the first ten times _laugh_) were two mutually exclusive things at that point in time. But he'll improve. And Remus wasn't in the best condition to advise anything then. Very good question about the Order and Grimmauld, I'll think on it. I already have a vague idea. Hehe, and I already decided where to sort him (not telling!) but your analysis is pretty much accurate. So it's one of the two.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Silence.

Draco dumbly stared at the place where not more than a minute ago resided his prey. First of all, he was highly affronted with the casual dismissal and the vanishing act. Secondly, he didn't know what to make out of the new candidate.

When he saw the dust monster he was immediately horrified but masterfully concealed it. Well, one thing was for sure, Flhoyer had the most beautiful eyes. Almond-shaped and bright emerald-green in colour. He was around 5'11 feet, which was a rather respectable height and didn't possess any obvious disfigurements.

The other thing he was confused about was the stranger's family name. Never-ever had he heard about the Flhoyers, and the Malfoy family prided itself in the knowledge of all the Lordships, even the small insignificant ones. Perhaps, Ryan was a Muggle-born aristocrat?

He needed to do a thorough investigation. So far, he was intrigued and leaned towards picking out the new candidate. But he didn't yet have enough information to make that decision. At least, Draco was sure he would see the guy in the next school year, if not before.

* * *

It was late evening of the next day, when Remus finally woke up. His body was well rested but starving. He didn't even need his werewolf senses to pick up the delicious aroma coming from downstairs. Quickly taking a shower and putting on sweat-pants with some ancient but comfy t-shirt, he arrived to the kitchen.

Harry… No, Flhoyer was sitting at the kitchen table surrounding by the stacks of dated Legawiz Issues and several history books taken, as he identified, from his personal library. The young man apparently didn't have any compunction about making himself at home. Not that Remus minded - it was a step up from the shy and insecure little boy.

"Good evening, Flhoyer."

"Moony!" his cub smiled happily. Now that he cleaned himself up, it was easier to notice the changes in ex-Harry Potter. He stood taller, looked healthier, missed the scar, and his green eyes no longer hid behind the atrocious glasses. His hair had grown to his mid-waist and was currently gathered in a pony-tail. The facial structure became more angular and sharp, a perfect combination of the best features of his parents. All-in-all, his honorary godson looked presentable and mature. It would be hard to recognize him if one didn't know where to look.

"Come, take a sit. Dinner first, then we have much to discuss."

Remus obediently followed Flhoyer's suggestion and practically inhaled the delicious grilled chicken with equally good tasting dressing. Remus was too out of it to notice what yesterday's food tasted like, but now that he thought about it, it was awesome. The werewolf was actually surprised – neither James, nor Lily had any cooking talent.

"That's very good, Har.." Remus stopped mid-speech, remembering the new name of his godson.

"Ryan."

"Ryan, then," well, at least it sounded nice. "Where did you learn to cook like that?"

The young wizard merely shrugged. "Guess, the Dursleys were good for something in the end."

Remus raised an eyebrow, but Ryan decided not to expand his explanation.

* * *

"So… How did that come about? Your change of a name and personality?" asked Moony in a casual voice while lounging contently in an armchair in front of a decorative fireplace.

"I was apprenticed."

"I'm afraid I don't understand what that has got to do with a change, though that is also an interesting bit of information."

"Very well. I'll start from the beginning. Several thousands years ago…" The werewolf snorted. The mage glared at Remus and the latter adopted an avidly interested face. Satisfied, Ryan continued. "As I said, several thousand years ago there were no magical schools, so it was upon the already educated wizards to take on at least one gifted to teach. There existed the Mage Council that assigned pupils to magicals based on the similarities in their gifts. The system was not prefect, but worked well enough. Knowledge was accumulating and expanding. The magical population was growing and remained relatively unprejudiced compared to nowadays mentality."

Ryan sighed and looked at Moony, who was now listening to him attentively without pretense. Well, of course, his godfather wasn't a history geek for nothing.

"However, as always, there were people who were quite possessive of the knowledge they gained and didn't want to share it, but usually the Council was strong enough to force them to take on an Apprentice. That is, until the dissidents infiltrated the Council itself and sent the whole system into chaos. Some magicals continued with the old practice, but many limited the knowledge only to their descendants and in the end about half of the magical population was left uneducated. The Wizarding World began the gradual withdrawal from the normal one, losing with it the analytical and logical view on things. Many Muggleborn wizards and witches as well as others with magical gifts, for one doesn't have to be a wizard to be magical, were left pending for themselves. Sometimes a gift was too strong and got out of control. It frightened Muggles and started a downward spiral in Magical-Muggle relationships, for from fear stemmed hatred and violence.

A magical scholar who lived at the time of the Fall of the Mages tried to save what he could and created the Knowledge Chambers where he left a part of himself to teach magicals with rare gifts."

Flhoyer stopped and looked lost in his thoughts.

"And…?" Remus urged his godson to continue.

"And this summer I stumbled across the Chambers or more like was lured into them, then forcefully apprenticed with a compulsory but thankfully temporary loss of memory, and as tradition held in the ancient times was given a new name. My Calling if you are interested is Dreamer and Summoner Flhoyer. I was today at Gringotts and took on myself the mantle of Flhoyer Lordship, so I am now also Lord Ryan Lilland Flhoyer."

"There is no Flhoyer Lordship," said Moony with conviction. Seeing the sly smile forming on Ryan's face, his confidence withered away.

"There is one now."

"Oh no… don't tell me…"

"Yes, yes, and yes."

Remus groaned. "I dread to imagine what your father thinks up there about demolishing the proud name of Potter…" The man ruefully shook his head. "Well, I'm sure Sirius at least is applauding your efforts. He never liked the way of the Blacks."

"I am of the same opinion. However, I believe, my parents would want me to live my life as I myself see fit if what I heard about them is true."

"It is true, you are right. So what are your plans?"

"Well, I am in the process of enrolling to Hogwarts' seventh year. Which brings me to a request… Can you tutor me a bit to get through OWLs and sixth year material?"

"I see no difficulties, I am now a freelancer, I suppose. But haven't you already taken your OWLs?"

"First of all, it was Harry Potter who did the exams so the records aren't valid for me; and, secondly, I want to do better than before, and with the addition of two extra subjects – Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

"Very well. I'll help you in any way I can. As I said I am always unoccupied nowadays, not counting Order missions," the werewolf said bitterly.

"Hey, don't be glum! I am trying to work on the werewolf prejudice! Maybe I can do something about the recently passed laws on magical creatures…"

"You are working…" Remus trailed off and eyed the stacks of papers and books that were now situated in the hall's corner. "Whatever, pray tell, you are looking for exactly?

"You know… Laws on werewolf rights and anti-rights, legal solutions, precedents, cases, ways to annul old laws and pass on new ones… That kind of things," Ryan frowned. "It is most unfortunate that I have to come out to the Wizengamot with my two-vote Lordship. I am sure the world will work out my previous identity pretty fast."

Ryan looked devastated.

"Not necessarily. Many old families faded into obscurity such a long time ago that even the archives bare no knowledge of them. However, the legawiz magic will still recognize them as the rightful members of the Wizengamot."

"Really?" hope blossomed in the young mage's heart. He really didn't want his new life to be in any way associated with Harry Potter's, at the very least in public.

"Really," reassured Remus. "Just play up the card of being the head of a really secluded and previously anti-social clan. For instance, tell people, that the majority of the clan died in an epidemic or something like that and that when you became the Lord, you decided to change the policy."

"Ah, Moony, you're a genius! Thanks, I'll definitely weave that piece into my cover story."

Ryan gathered the uncomfortable werewolf in a bear hug, and then punched him in the shoulder. "Enough with the serious stuff. How about we wrestle? I do need some exercise after all that time in the Knowledge Chambers!"

Remus just sighed and let himself being dragged to the outside, presumably to wrestle. It would take some time to get used to this new version of his godson.

* * *

Hurbert Evangelios Ollivander was old. Some would even go as far as to call him ancient. If he had had a more shiny profession, people would have already noticed that his lifetime frame bordered on being immortal. As it is, they just assumed that the wand store was family business run by the generations of Ollivanders. And while the man was not truly immortal, he was in fact one very strong mage and lived already for more than two thousand years. His talents lay in Aura-Sight and in the field of crafting magical tools.

When he was young, Hubertus was lucky enough to be apprenticed to one of the old-timers and evolve into a powerful mage. However, he himself did not share the views of his Master and have never taken on any pupil. For what if he might ask? He wasn't going to die any time soon and didn't ever feel the urge to share his unique skills.

One of the last potential Apprentices he saw in his wandshop was actually such a good match to his own gifts that he even had briefly contemplated the possibility of becoming a teacher. But in the end, the mage decided it wasn't worth his time. So that was how Albus Brian Percival Wulfric Dumbledore was left to his own devices. The gifts themselves weren't particularly volatile, but it did provide a certain challenge to cope with Aura-Sight without proper training. Ollivander was highly amused monitoring the progress of the future "most powerful wizard". And though it did skew his mentality and made him a bit barmy, the teen finally managed to get his sight under control.

There was only one reason besides his gift why Ollivander became a wandmaker – sadistic amusement. He remembered times when wands were still frowned upon by the majority of magicals. Even though most people couldn't draw and manipulate magic without one or other device's help, the variety of such devices was enormous. Wands, stuffs, jewelry, musical instruments, clothes, pottery… It didn't really matter what form a conduit took, the more fine-tuned towards the character of a wizard the device was the more effective it worked. Wands were the most generic tool, usually used by children until they switched to a specific instrument or to pure magic manipulation, which was nowadays called wandless magic. In the long-term wands were actually detrimental to one's magical core, crippling its owner's potential.

It was Merlin who started a trend of the wands usage. Frankly speaking, the boy's wand _was_ an ideal match to him, but that was a coincidence that happens one time in a million. The sheeple, however, looked up to the heroic figure and followed his example without further questions. Merlin himself also encouraged this behaviour for whatever selfish reasons he had. It helped as well that the wand magic if not the most efficient was the simplest and quickest one to learn and could be easily standardized, which was not the case with the specialized magical tools. One didn't need to work hard and think independently – create on a daily basis. Was it really a surprise that the wizarding society evolved into a joke it is now?

After Merlin had outlived his usefulness, Ollivander disposed of him, as well as of many others. It wouldn't do to have a lot of mages running around. In the end, the ancient mage lived contentedly, safe in the knowledge that he was one of if not The strongest magical in the world. This fact warmed his old and callous heart.

So it was quite a shock for the man to arrive in the morning to his workplace and find it gone - destroyed in the most malicious way without his advanced wards even making a peep. The house was burned down, angry flames still licking at the carnage, and Aurors were futilely trying extinguish the fire.

Ollivander shuddered when he smelled sulphur in the air. He got closer to the catastrophe scene and actually blushed. There in the middle of the ruins soared upwards a wall with a series of obscene carved pictures about what one could do with a wand. And that something was anything but magic.

Ollivander felt chill overcoming his body despite the surrounding heat, when he saw a message addressed solely to him. There was no doubt that only he could see and read it.

_Aura-Seer and Crafter Ollivander,_

_Do something more useful with your time. This society is already as stagnant as it can get. Do not return back to your "family" business. If you do, there would be consequences to pay. And I assure you I WILL know._

_Best regards,_

_Dreamer and Summoner Flhoyer._

_P.S. I hope you didn't store any items of personal or sentimental value at the store. _

The late wandmaker was so shocked by the occurring events that he failed to notice the herd of black-robed figures apparate to the alley, simultaneously stun him and immediately disapparate with his body in tow.

The Aurors still trying out different water spells to stop the fire, which curiously enough didn't spread behind the borders of the burnt house, were too slow to react and were left to helplessly stare at once again empty early morning street.

* * *

**AN:** _Evil cackle_ Should I add Evil!Ollivander or Ollivander-bashing to the story description? Hurray! I found my villain! I really can't explain how that came about.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:** I must confess that I HATE this chapter. It was very hard to write and it turned out very boring too. I just hope to improve in the future. See ya soon.

**Immortal Sailor Cosmos, semper parasitis, jujube 15, Mou'Ikka, dreamgirl93, cyiusblack, miss quirky bookworm,** Thank you all for your attention and patience. I'll try to update more frequently.

**miss quirky bookworm**, Yeeees. He did. He is the bad guy after all, that's what they do… ;)

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The clock on the wall chimed 10. It was dark outside the window and fire was peacefully crackling in the fireplace lighting Ryan's face with twisting red shadows. The mage mechanically closed a fascinating book on the subject of complex potion-brewing and went to get ready to bed.

There was only one habit that he got from his training in the Knowledge Chambers that bugged Flhoyer to no-end. He couldn't stop going to sleep at a certain time. "Curfew" was engraved deeply in his organism. While it may have been healthy, Flhoyer was frustrated because he had to do all his covert operations like the destruction of Ollivander's shop, not in the romantic dark of the night, but in the morning. Very early morning, when the streets were hardly populated by anything else than stray dogs and wondering or lying about drunkards. All the cream of the criminal and night world at that moment in time was peacefully sleeping in their places of residence wherever and whatever they might be.

That was disappointing. The young man felt himself like an amateur. He was so eager to explore the dark side of the wizarding world and how would you explore it if you completely miss out on their time of activity. He had no way to inspect the specimen behaviour in their natural habitat. No self-respecting scientist would be satisfied with such state of things.

Still, tonight he didn't try to fight the urge to crawl under the warm blankets into the bed in the Remus' guest room.

Tomorrow began the series of examinations arranged for him by the helpful Headmaster. Flhoyer had had only three weeks to get ready. It wasn't OWLs yet, but he felt that he must get ready as much as he could. Unlike his old teenage self he prided himself in being competent. All his projects were put on hold, and he with the help of the werewolf was studying maniacally through day and… well, evening. He felt that he was as ready as he could get in such a short time. He felt confident that he would surpass his classmates by the end of the summer, though. That was not mere boasting. He had brains, magic, self-discipline and dedication to accomplish that. In fact, the mage didn't _have_ to go to Hogwarts to get a degree - he could just pass OWLs and NEWTs through the Ministry – but he wanted to see the familiar faces and… Well, he had to be at Hogwarts in some official capacity to get on with his plans. Student occupation was good enough.

Sighing and looking longingly at the tempting darkness of the night outside, Ryan spelled off the lights.

* * *

The Monday morning began as it usually does. Students in differentiating groups and at varying times were arriving to the Great Hall.

Draco Malfoy absent-mindedly watched the process. All the time since his meeting with the Flhoyer guy he tried to dig out any relevant information on his new acquaintance. And what he got was absolutely nothing, except the strange order from the Dark Lord to leave Remus Lupin and somebody named Flhoyer alone.

Having got that little boon just before the weekend, he immediately set on to finding the address of Remus Lupin. As he already suspected it wasn't present in the public records, but fortunately and curiously enough the DEs did have that knowledge.

However, this discovery appeared to be a dead end. The wards on the house were impenetrable with no contact from the outside, and neither Draco himself, nor any hired by him assistants, could break through. The only link inside the Janice Bridge Hall territory was a lone sad-looking post-box, where owls left all the mail, which shortly after was being checked for harmful objects and magic and magically transported inside the wards.

The young Slytherin came to the conclusion that if he wanted to see the mystery man or get any information on him before September the 1st, he would have to send an owl directly to Lord Flhoyer to arrange a meeting. But that seemed like such a straightforward way. He didn't want to give an impression of an obsessed man and or scare away the potential mate.

Draco was frustrated. None of the other candidates required such hard work for the simple background check. Flhoyer, apparently just appeared in Britain as if conjured from thin air. Could his name be a pseudonym, perhaps? No, Lordships could not be forged. The Dark Lord was claiming the title solely through his magical strength and proficiency in the dark arts, but this respectful or even fearful reference would never change into true measure of nobility.

Drinking the last bit of his already cold tea, Draco departed the hall and ready to face the day. An ordinary school day that was just starting to unfold.

* * *

By the middle of the day Draco was ready to bash his head against the wall in sheer frustration. The alluring scent was meeting him everywhere. That bastard was somewhere in Hogwarts, and he still hadn't caught even a glimpse of him.

When Draco walked into his second class of the day – Potions – the aroma inside the room almost knocked him off his feet, so surprised he was. While he could ask his godfather about who was here an hour before, he didn't want to act suspicious. So he went on with his normal school routine trying to ignore the presence. His attempts were all in vain, he was so distracted that he already lost Slytherin 20 points. Shame!

He was among the last to arrive to Transfiguration, just as the bell signaled the beginning of the class. And… FLHOYER WAS HERE!

He saw the aura circling lazily in the front of the classroom. His prey was sitting at the front desk waiting patiently for something. All the seats in the front row were, of course, occupied, so he had to content himself with watching intently the back of the guy. Today the suspicious candidate was dressed in simple-cut cotton black robes that hugged loosely his figure. There was not even a speck of dust on his person in contrast to their last meeting. Draco noted the long deep black hair that was held neatly in a low pony-tail.

The cat-woman briefly explained to the class the presence of a stranger – he was here to take the entrance exams.

Flhoyer was merited with plenty curious looks which he masterfully ignored.

And the usual lecture began. Draco tried to focus on the steady voice of Professor McGonagall all the while watching as the elusive candidate was enthusiastically scribbling answers on the examination paper. Which was quite boring but captivating. The Malfoy Lord even began nodding off, but caught himself in the last possible moment.

Fifteen minutes till the end of the class Flhoyer handed his work in. Straining his handsome veela ears Draco caught McGonagall saying to the guy to come back in half an hour for the practical part.

Draco Malfoy was desperately looking at the leaving back of the young man, as he suddenly turned around and met with his eyes. Quirking an eyebrow, the guy simply nodded in acknowledgement and walked away.

The Slytherin slowly let out a breath he was holding and noticed Blaise watching him weirdly. He was confronted with another raised eyebrow that conveyed a question "WTF was that about?"

He just shrugged in response and reverted to day-dreaming about brilliant green eyes and milky-white skin. His recent obsession's face had deceptively delicate yet strong jaw line, high cheek-bones, straight aristocratic nose, fine-arched eye-brows and sharply shaped full lips... Sold! All in all, the guy looked striking, yet not pretty. He was beautiful and certainly answered Draco's appearance requirements. If only the results of the background check were equally satisfying, he would have started courting Flhoyer right away. The Slytherin resolved himself to wait as long as it was needed. He didn't want to botch this up.

* * *

Flhoyer was once again lounging in his favourite spot on the shore of the Black Lake. Thankfully, this place of his always remained a secret, even to his closest friends. No one would disturb him here.

It was a brief respite between his tests. He already completed both Transfiguration and Potions. While both subjects fascinated him, they and Charms were the hardest of all to catch up for him. He guessed he did okay, but he was not sure. Ryan smiled ruefully. He uncannily reminded himself of his old friend Hermione. Since when did he worry about the results so much? It wasn't worth it. Perhaps, all the academic atmosphere of the institution was getting to him.

The mage was also deeply confused by Malfoy's behaviour. Of course, he wasn't the only one curious about the newcomer, but there was something intense and disturbing in his ex-rival's behaviour… as though he recognized his previous identity. He didn't think so, but couldn't help but feel a bit wary around the other teen. The young man shivered involuntarily remembering the burning and hypnotizing quicksilver eyes.

During his frantic preparations for tests he completely forgot to dream-spy on certain people. That was a grave omission on his part. He should have kept an eye on the potential threats to his plans.

Never mind, as soon as he was finished with the exams for today, he would correct his mistake. And in two days he would begin to implement his hardest and craziest plot to date.

Ryan smirked. He was planning to have some fun.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** Here is another chapter. I think the next one will be posted also shortly after. Two-three days at most.

**miss quirky bookworm**, well, one of the scary plans is unraveled partially (but you can guess the rest more or less) in this chapter. Hope, you'll like it. About Draco finding out… Oh, I don't know. I'm afraid there won't be a spectacular temper tantrum, but we'll see.

**aylan**, thank you, I am glad you like the story. Flhoyer is a product of my mind. My assumption about how an Old Celtic name would look like. As I am no linguist and haven't even researched the topic I may be completely off with my guess.

**Ravenclaw Samurai**, thank you. I am glad you like Harry/Ryan. I am rather fond of him myself. I'll write more on Draco in later chapters.

**disgruntledfairy**, I did neglect Draco, didn't I? Thank you for pointing that out. I'll try to make him one of the main characters as he should be. Not much of him in this chapter, but in the next chapter there will be more.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Ollivander was artfully twitching and screaming his throat raw on the cold floor of the large ominous-looking hall. Or so his captors thought.

For the old man the whole scene he was making was amusing. He hadn't had such fun for several centuries. Perhaps, there was a grain of truth in Flhoyer's words. He should change a profession, it'd become boring already in the first hundred years.

Of course, the Cruciatus curse this fool of a Dark Lord was using on him, couldn't make him even cringe. His magic was long ago trained to throw off painful and harmful effects of plenty curses. Not all of them, mind you, but such a simplistic curse, even though based on emotions, wasn't going to get through his barrier.

The wandmaker had many thoughts running through his head. First of all, what boon to give Voldemort to satisfy the monster. He didn't know why the Lard Dork was so intent on learning of the connection between brother wands. Honestly, he already explained everything to him, no big secret there. What else did he want?

Ollivander subtly scanned the dark wizard's surface thoughts.

Ah! A new wand to fight with his enemy. Why would Voldie need one if his enemy was long ago dead? Talk about paranoia…

Well, no trouble with that, one has only to ask and be given. Just no running back and complaining.

The Elder Wand. Ollivander always thought it had a nice ring to it. A creation of a Necromancer mage along with the other Deathly Hallows, who mysteriously popped up in the wizarding world. The man had a peculiar sense of humour. Screwing up the minds of the now famous Perevell brothers was an admirable campaign. Ollivander even helped the joker to create that very wand before disposing of him. Unfortunately, he couldn't procure any information on where and from whom the so-called Death learned the arts. Some magical oath was preventing any methods of extraction except a willing divulging of a secret. The Crafter hoped that enough torture would achieve the necessary amount of willingness, but alas, as the first syllables of confession slipped his victim's lips, he simply stopped breathing. Ergo, a dead useless body.

Even then he sensed some type of conspiracy going on, but let it rest. And now, another mage appeared again. And actually had enough gall to threaten him. HIM! Hubert Evangelios Ollivander! He had to deal with the pesky nuisance.

But the mage was wary. While he knew who a Summoner was, and it already promised some trouble, he could only guess what kind of power a Dreamer had. Perhaps, visiting people's dreams? Sending them nightmares? That didn't sound very threatening, only potentially bothersome.

But he should digress from him musings and concentrate on the reality. It was time to die…

He made a horrified face at the sailing towards him Avada Kedavra, and slumped lifelessly on the roughly polished stones. Killing Curse… How quaint.

* * *

The Dreamer awoke with a start. It was not a happy event of seeing Avada Kedavra thrown at him who-knows-which-time. As in the case of the old bugger, he was already beyond being harmed by that Unforgivable, but it still made him uneasy. Flhoyer blamed it on childhood trauma.

He was lucky that Ollivander didn't know about Dreamers. It gave him freedom to spy on the man as long and as much as he liked. And that is what he was prepared to do for awhile. Aside from small dirty tricks, he wasn't ready to the open confrontation with a millennia-old mage. But Ryan had to admit, it added spice to his life. He was too used to have an adversary in his life. And Voldemort wasn't a challenge anymore. Speaking of the devil… He had some designs on the creature, and the visit to him was long overdue. The mage just had to wait till Ollivander got his mighty arse out of the Dark Lord's fortress.

* * *

It was dark and gloomy in the throne room of the Dark Fortress, as the castle was fondly called by Death Eaters. The torches cast frightening shadows on the walls and the tall figure on an imposing chair serving as a throne.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, more commonly known as "I am Lord Voldemort", was deep in thought, inventing an elaborate plan of obtaining the Death Wand. He was so happy to have something worthy of evil mastermind plotting at last. While he could always storm the Ministry, he wasn't so sure what to do with it, if it fell into his hands. And with the current incompetent Minister and the general corrupting of society, such an event was highly possible.

The Dark Lord understood that his sanity was playing tricks with him ever since that fateful night he'd got into the beam of the rebounded Killing Curse. He did remember that some time ago he wanted the Wizarding World government to be his, but why? The answer to the question eluded him. The words "Mudbloods", "filthy Muggles" and "revenge" were floating in his mind, but that group of words didn't seem like an eligible reason to go on with that particular plan. The task of getting an unbeatable wand looked quite simple and understandable in comparison. That is what Dark Lords do, he tried to reassure himself, they steal or forge all-powerful items to rule the world. But why...

A polite knock on the massive doors distracted Voldemort from his deep contemplation on the nature of Dark Lords.

"Enter."

A man in grey robes came in and bowed with dignity.

"My Lord Voldemort."

The Dark Lord was secretly pleased to hear his pseudonym. He didn't go to such length to create a fearful and meaningful name only to be called You-Know-Who. Ah, the irony of life...

But he digressed. This one was not of his Death Eaters. The man had already unbowed and was waiting patiently for his presence to be acknowledged.

Voldemort gazed into brilliant green eyes and his mind flashed back to the same pair of luminous expressive eyes that looked so unnatural on a fifteen-months babe.

"Potter!" He screamed, his hand flexing to grip the wand.

The intruder looked amused.

"I am afraid, you are mistaken. My name is Lord Ryan Flhoyer."

"Flhoyer!" Voldemort screamed again. "How did you get here?"

"I have my ways, my Lord."

The dark wizard calmed down a bit, but remained on guard. While Flhoyer called him "my Lord", he knew perfectly well that was a form of courtesy, and not a declaration of allegiance.

"Well, Lord Flhoyer, it is nice to meet you in person, even if uninvited," Voldemort rebuked mildly. "To what do I owe this pleasure? Merely a social visit or a business call?"

"A scientific research brings me here, as well as a proposal to you. My family has a collection of some ancient texts, describing some rare abilities of magicals. It is my intent to test you for them. And if you prove to have one of them, I'll teach you how to use it. I swear on my magic, it will not bring you harm."

"Why would you do that? What do you want in return?"

"Nothing, my Lord. While my family always remained secluded and secretive, it is my personal belief and agenda that the knowledge should be shared."

"Do you also have some rare abilities then?"

"You are not ready to know my Calling, my Lord."

"What do you need to test me?"

"A drop of your blood and a sample of your magic."

Voldemort was shocked by the unbelievable boldness of Flhoyer. To give such personal and powerful substances went against his paranoid nature.

The guest seemed to understand his misgivings.

"I'll once again swear an oath that it is not my intent to harm your person."

That sounded reasonable enough.

"Very well. But I have a condition. You'll test and teach if necessary one other person besides me…"

* * *

One day was left till the beginning of the Easter holidays, and Draco Malfoy was planning to leave Hogwarts for Malfoy Manor. He was not very eager to return home. While he complained about the Dark Lord and co, it would be even duller without them darkening the Manor doorstep. You-Know-Who moved with his band to some other super-secret location that he had somehow found while surfing the Malfoy Great Library.

Still, he had to look after his mother and plan for the father's escape or release. The Dark Lord as became apparent wasn't keen on raiding Azkaban in the near future, so the task of freeing the elder Malfoy was on his young son's shoulders.

Just one short week to achieve such a trying goal. And he still hadn't decided whether to contact Flhoyer or not. Draco had already written the letter, which was now lying in his well-warded school cabinet.

His own obsession was frightening him. Other candidates didn't come even close to affecting him so strongly. Was it lust? No, he wasn't so weak-willed as to follow the willing of his other head. Was it love? No, he didn't believe in love from first sight. Was the guy his soul-mate? He surely hoped not. That would be troublesome.

The veela sighed. He will send a letter. He didn't think he was ready to wait till another chance encounter.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN:** Ok, I'm back to writing. Don't know for how long. This chapter is very short and was written some time ago, but I hope, that putting it on FFnet will spur my will to write more. Thanks to all who still read this story.

* * *

The lawyer left an hour ago, but Draco was still sitting in his father's - now his - office and pondering the pros and cons of releasing Lucius Malfoy from Azkaban. Fortunately, it could be done nicely and legally, though, of course, costly. He only had to give his approval and his father will walk out of that degrading prison due to the lack of evidence. Harry Potter was gone, Albus Dumbledore was still considered delusional because of the heartbreak after the death of his protégée. The DoM six (minus the sixth part), as they were used to be called by the media, were the main problem and the hole where the money would be drained into. It would take lots of bribes to arrange the situations so that they wouldn't be present in court. Legal and illegal situations both. After all what a better way to stop a person coming than a seemingly innocently botched-up curse from the unsuspected third party, say a well-meaning fourth year Hufflepuff. Just an unfortunate accident, that took a lot of money and resources to be arranged.

But did he want to bring his father back? He was quite enjoying the position of Lord Malfoy and other titles and after the father's return he would have to relinquish them.

Draco rubbed his temples. He knew he was being a jerk for thinking so. Of course, he would help father. While there was no great love lost between them, there were still familial bonds and a certain amount of fondness and respect. And it was painful to look at his mother who was the shadow of herself from the constant alcohol consumption and the tiresome visits to Azkaban. Her loyalty to the husband was admirable. While he was still a cynical person, Draco couldn't help but wish for the same amount of unwavering loyalty and love from his chosen mate.

He will send an affirmative reply to the lawyer in a few days. It would take some time to arrange a fail-safe plan for his continued monetary independence. While he was still a Lord he could very well transfer the greater percentage of the funds to his personal vault. That didn't constitute as betrayal in his opinion, as the wealth still remained within the family. Just a precaution. He wouldn't want to be forced to become a Death Eater and he didn't know how stable the patriarch would be after the ten months of Dementors' influence.

* * *

Ryan lazily stretched on the covers of his bed and slowly opened his eyes. The Dream Excursion proved to be interesting but he still hadn't discovered what young Malfoy thought about him. The mage wondered if he should warn his ex-friends about the upcoming trial. Nah, he didn't think so. He didn't care much about Lucius Malfoy being free and about, and apparently his family needed him. The best part was that Draco would remain in control of the most of Malfoy family dealings, so Lucius shouldn't become a threat or an annoyance.

Draco Malfoy, though… From this brief inspection, Flhoyer concluded that he seemed like a good enough bloke. Very Slytherin and devious, but with a number of morals left. Decent enough. Maybe, he should consider to rally him in his future plans. But at the moment it wasn't his most pressing concern.

A melodic chime from downstairs signaled to the arrival of mail. Unhurriedly, Ryan came down to the hall and picked up a letter from the floor near the door. It was addressed to him and wasn't one of the official ones.

He ripped the envelope and unfolded the parchment that lay within it.

_My Lord Flhoyer,_

_As you might or might not remember my name is Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy and we happened to have crossed path a while ago in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I sincerely hope that your endeavor to enroll in our institution is progressing nicely._

_I admit to being to being curious about the appearance of a new, unheard of before Lord in the wizarding Britain. It is my intention, if it is possible, to get better acquainted with your person. I am also happy to offer any help with acquainting with our society, should you need it._

_If you are amenable to my proposition , I would like to invite you to dinner during the next week. If you are agreeable, please, state the date and time when you are free and I'll gladly pick you up._

_Best regards,_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy, Lord of the Malfoy Manor._

Flhoyer was pretty much flabbergasted at the content of the letter, and not a little amused. He had a flashback to his first ride on Horwarts Express. Malfoy's offer was pretty much the same as it had been then. "Hi, I want to be your friend, I'll show you around." Well, this second offer was much better presented and more polite. But Flhoyer suspected, his ex-rival must also have some ulterior motive to extend a hand of friendship, as he had had in their first year. But, perhaps, it really_ was_ just a curiosity about an unknown factor.

Ryan sighed. Unfortunately, Dream spying wasn't always fruitful and so far he didn't get a clue about the origins of Malfoy's sudden interest in him.

The young mage grabbed a quill from the hall table stationary and a fresh list of parchment and quickly penned an affirmative reply. He was curious as well.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: **Next chap! Hope you'll like it. It's still pretty short, but I'll try to post another one shortly.

**Immortal Sailor Cosmos**, you just have to wait and see who is the other person, though you may guess it from the contents of this chapter. And Harry had some ulterior motive in helping Voldy, it's not exactly a selfless action. I'm surprised you continue the story despite all that. Thank you. There will be more veela and HPDM stuff in the future. I promise. The story began at the end of the fifth year. And now it is already the spring of the sixth year.

**kattastic999**, thanks

**miss quirky bookworm**, Mischief? Maybe… And no, that other person isn't Draco. The romance will commence in its own time. I'm not so sure about buddy-buddy relationship, I think it will be pretty formal and then move on to romance, but we'll see.

**NelliGirl**, thank you. Keep in touch.

**Faerie Princess of Doom**, I confess that I an guilty. I got a bit overexcited with this Calling stuff. It will still be a large but of the story, but so will be the veela stuff, I got some nifty, though I'm afraid not original, idea about that. I don't know if that one can be considered a cool plot twist. But I promise to try my best. =) The veela context will unfold later into the story.

**Jujube15**, he will be combination, neutral I guess. We will search for answers both. The characters tend to misbehave from time to time. The end result always comes to me as a surprise.

**Night-Player**, 2 more chapters posted, hope you liked them.

**cyiusblack**, well, it wasn't soon, sorry. But I updated in the end.

**Flyawayblue**, thank you! Keep on reading!

**FrenRala**, Sorry for OOCness, but I quite like to mutilate characters, but then it's humour. Try not to take it seriously. And no, I'm afraid Harry is lost to this piece of fanfiction. There will be some private revelations, but for the world at large Harry'll remain Flhoyer. I think…0_0

**mumimeanjudy**, Different! Thank you, I like to hear that. It _is_ difficult to be different with the amount of fanfiction out there.

**sexy Seren**, updated.

**Zale potter**, me too. Wonder, I mean.

**TornIntoPieces**, Thank you.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Guilt gnawed at Ryan's heart. It wasn't an overwhelming type of guilt, rather an uncomfortable one. He had to put werewolf rights on one of the last places on his priority list and considering that Remus was a werewolf and suffering from prejudice, he felt that he _should_ be more concerned with resolving this problem first of all. Ryan stepped into the silent debate with his conscience, arguing that the world wasn't made in seven days and that Remus wasn't really suffering now that he had his godson around, that… Well, _why _didn't he think before about delegating the resolution of this to Moony? Because the werewolf was self-conscious and a bit beaten down by life? Yes, that might be the reason. But, it still was worth a try. Maybe, this task will give Remus some sense of purpose and increase his self-respect.

The mage happily smiled, or crazily grinned one might say, which would have disturbed any watchers, but nobody of the human kind was there. And goblins that he hired for the construction of his new little compound were unperturbed by their employer antics. The stoic buggers were already making finishing touches.

Ryan was almost done with the first stage of one of his long-term project, namely new premises. The whole endeavor proved to be expensive as he didn't have the needed property on hand and despite his well-rounded education was woefully ignorant in construction magic and couldn't do it himself. Therefore, his visit to the Gringotts Bank subsidiary – Eternal Constructions and the subsequent thinning of his vault contents.

The building under construction was a two-storey stone house built into the side of the mountain and connected with the cave system inside it. The place was situated in Scotland and was specifically chosen as far from Hogwarts as possible. The house wasn't some grand architectural project but it was smart and practical. Crispy new and lacking furniture.

The goblins bid him quick good-bye and the Constructor of the group asked him to come by to the company's office to get the blue prints and some other legal papers pertaining to the property.

After the goblins left, Ryan wandered the empty rooms and corridors and tried to establish what furniture to buy, which room to enchant analogically to the room of requirement, and contemplating what wards to put up. He wanted to emulate to an extent the Knowledge Chambers and continue on with the worthy cause of Sohhare. Though, he was _not_ planning to sacrifice his eternal soul.

Flhoyer had found the necessary information in Sohhare's grimoire but he still didn't have the extensive library of the Knowledge Chambers. For that he needed his Master's apparition help and consent. He was pretty much sure the copy-right spells weren't invented till the eighteenth century, but on the other hand people during the harsh times of the Fall of the Mages had been paranoid and suspected everyone of deceit. He just had to wait and see for himself.

* * *

Next day after the short trip to London, familiar blood donation, tearful begging, and strenuous fight with stubborn charmed grimoires, Flhoyer was the proud owner of the Knowledge Chambers library. Copied.

Sighing tiredly, but grinning in triumph Flhoyer dropped the precious trunk on the floor of the Janice Bridge Hall's, well, hall and stretched across the fluffy carpet.

Remus from his comfy seat in front of the fireplace for a minute just gaped at his godson. The previously glorious raven-colour mane was burned, eyebrows singed, the expensive robes tattered and ripped with blood oozing from several cuts on the body and covered in ash and some other suspicious substances. Puke-green splotches looked especially fetching. The accompanying odour almost murdered the werewolf's sensitive sense of smell.

"Have you, by any chance, run across an overgrown Blast-Ended Screwt?" worriedly asked Remus.

Flhoyer grinned from his self-acclaimed place on the carpet. After the Tri-Wizard Tournament's third task, any self-respecting wizard understood the reference. Hagrid's hybrid pets were now truly famous and quite pricy on the market for beast fight competitions.

"No, I was in the library, actually."

"Library," repeated the werewolf disbelievingly.

"Well, it's true," childishly pouted Ryan, plucking his bloodied lower lip, which didn't look cute in his stage but provoked an enormous sense of pity. "Who knew, that so many books would be protected from copying."

Remus despite his worries laughed uproarsly at his naivety.

"Hey, they were millennia old!" the mage tried to justify himself.

"So?"

"Nevermind… Bath, here I come!"

* * *

The Malfoy Manor became lively again. Between the coursing through the halls medical personnel, lobbying business partners and the never-ending energy of his overjoyed mother, Draco was hard-pressed to have a moment of peace. Father after his stay in Azkaban was a bit worth for wear but thanks to the Black trick, as it was now called in the DEs' circles, very much sane and as uptight as before.

The first time he saw the patriarch and presented the Lord regalia back, father looked him over studiously and stated:

"You have yet to choose."

Draco suppressed the urge to bristle – just where was "hello, son, long time, no see, good to be back", etc – and calmly answered.

"I'm working on it. I have recently found an intriguing candidate that I'm inclined to choose. Lord Flohyer."

"Lord who?"

No, he wasn't mistaken, there _was_ the steely and very much cold glint in the eyes of his father. So he must've already learned about the transfer of funds. Draco inwardly cringed, but refused to cower. He was now as tall if not taller than Lucius.

"Lord Ryan Lilland Flhoyer."

"I repeat – Lord who?"

"I am trying to find out. That's why I said I'm still working on it. Seventeen years old, home-schooled, planning to enroll into the seventh year in Hogwarts, powerful aura, beautiful..." he paused but decided to finish as was due. "…and on the Dark Lord's untouchable list."

Draco's trained eye noticed the slight grimace on Father's face at the mention of the Dark Lord (ah, ah! was that disappointment in his Master Draco sensed there? After all no one came to bust him out of Azkaban) which imperceptibly morphed into surprise.

"There is an untouchable list?"

"There is now."

"Long?"

"Not very. Only four, hm, persons listed – Bellatrix Lestrange, Nagini, Flhoyer and Remus Lupin."

"Interesting," Lucius paused and looked searchingly into the face of his son. "I hope you remember that the best time to bond is during the first year after the inheritance. After that the results may disappoint you."

Draco started and understood the he needed to accelerate his wooing plans. Even at the risk of fucking them up.

"I'm afraid you forgot to mention that in your missive."

"Pity."

There wasn't any trace of compassion _or_ pity in the voice of the patriarch. It will take a lot of time and effort for his father to come to terms with the unexpected loss of the majority of liquid assets at his disposal. Well, Draco was not backing on his decision either. He quite liked and already was used to his independence.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: **Sorry, people, no dinner yet. Bit it _will_ be in the next chapter, I promise.

**miss quirky bookworm**, Draco is not completely sure about his choice, but he is hooked. And yes, there will be some wooing. Ryan got the copies of the books, yes. How, I left to the imagination of the readers.

**NelliGirl**, thank you. All that you are waiting for will be there. I just don't know when.

**disgrunteledfairy**, thank you, I'm glad you liked the dialogue.

**cyiusblack**, thanks.

**RRW**, sorry, you have to suffer the suspense, but it will be only in the next chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

The sun was setting down with progressing speed somewhere behind the forest line. Ryan was waiting.

Now all depended on the level of insanity and naivety of the renowned Dark Lord. Will he come with a portkey made by someone else than one of his trusted or beaten into submission followers to an undisclosed location? Of course, he swore an oath to he would meet him at the location and act in the best interests of one Lord Voldemort during the Apprenticeship as guarantee of his good intentions. Funnily enough, the man didn't catch onto the aspect, that the Master usually decides what those best interests are.

The mage flashed back to the time when Voldemort asked him to test for abilities one other person, namely Bellatrix Lestrange. He wanted to scream on top of his lungs "no deal!", but managed to keep himself in check. He wouldn't let his personal feelings interfere in this endeavor. iHisAfter all, what was the chance of her having some kind of Calling? Slim.

But she did. It was a shock to find out that the maniac hateful dark witch had the potential to become a Light Mistress. Oh, the irony of life. Ryan couldn't help but feel some pity for the screwed up woman. From birth she was preconditioned by her family to follow the darker path and so she did. And while a Light Master can occasionally employ Dark Arts, the overexposure will twist his or her view of reality usually making them dangerously insane.

The mage felt obligated to correct the wrong. He couldn't hate the witch anymore. She was not responsible for her actions. One couldn't blame the mentally deficient, you either put them down, detained or cured. Ryan chose the last option.

And dear Tom had the Calling of, surprise-surprise, Dark Master. Ryan was now amused that these two were in relationship. Well, they say that opposites attract.

* * *

When his dark mark flared with pain, Lucius hesitated. He didn't want to answer the call. He just began to recuperate after his exposure to the joy-sucking monsters. Not that his life was full of it anyhow. While he came out of the imprisonment with his sanity intact, it has driven several harsh truths home. For one, he regretted joining the Dark Lord. What was he thinking?! Well, actually he was following his father's footsteps, who was rumored to be the buddy of the Dark Lord since the school days. Not that it was ever confirmed. Abraxas died on the raid when his son was only nine years. Continuing the path his father had chosen seemed like an honourable thing to do. Besides, the dark mark tattoo in the house of Slytherin was a fad.

Now though… He had the money (or rather had had), looks, beautiful wife, devious (that little brat!) heir, and pureblood lineage. He didn't really care about the fate of Mudbloods and Half-Bloods. How they integrated into the wizarding world was not his problem, and the Malfoys did have the fair share of businesses earning wealth in the muggle world.

Now he didn't feel like following the insane maniac.

Lucius suppressed a sigh. He didn't have much choice. The Dark Lord was an insane and _dangerous_ maniac and din't favour traitors.

So despite his feelings Lucius adorned his DE garments and hurried to the apparation room passing on the way Draco who spared him a disapproving glance. That..! Oh, whatever.

The blonde was surprised to discover that he wasn't the only one called. It seemed all the minions were there including the Inner Circle and some of their creature allies.

Ten minutes passed with some more people arriving. Finally the movement stopped and the crowd waited.

The Dark Lord just appeared in front of his followers and coldly observed them from the height of his tall form for a minute.

"Welcome, my followers and the supporters of the Dark. You have been called today to hear an important announcement. Since this day I, with accompanying me madam Lestrange, will embark on an important mission that in the end will help to forward the attainment of our common goals. I will be gone for the undisclosed amount of time and my orders are the following: stand still and do not go on any raids. Do not attract attention with your actions. The fugitives and others in need are welcome to stay here, in the Fortress. Train and be ready for my return."

Lucius was impressed with the speech. That was different from the usual ask-for-report-and-crucio routine.

"Bella, come forward."

The witch eagerly skipped to the Dark Lord and latched on his extended arm.

"Crucio."

Lucius wouldn't willingly admit it, but he _did_ participate in the collective crowd flinch at hearing the word, when it actually proved to be the activation code of a portkey. When some of the "braver" people decided to open their eyes, both Lord Voldemort and the witch were gone.

Not the one to look the gifted horse in the mouth, Lucius apparated back to the Manor.

* * *

Ryan was contemplating the possibility of Tom deciding against his generous offer (and yes, he _was_ generous), when the pair portkeyed to the lawn in front of the house. The mage smiled and stood up from his seat on the porch to greet the guests.

"Welcome to my abode."

The Dark Lord with his wand drawn darted his eyes across the landscape and zeroed on him.

"Flhoyer. Is this your family's Manor then?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, it is the family's training facility. Come in."

Only after reminding the Dark Lord about the oath he managed to herd the pair with a strangely silent Bellatrix inside.

Halting in front of the stairs to the second floor Ryan looked back to the entrance hall at Voldemort and Bellatrix and smiled charmingly.

"Well, from now on, you are stripped from your names both born and self-proclaimed and will be called Appentice Alpha and Apprentice Beta. Your past memories will be blocked till such a time that you earn your Callling…"

"Just what do you think…"

The mage calmly ignored two wands pointing at him and followed the progress of the golden mist creeping on the pair from behind. Bellatrix was the first to notice it and issued a silent scream (Silencio at work), which being silent was not heard by Tom who concentrated his attention on Ryan. Well, that is what you get for silencing your followers. Though, in case of Bellatrix it was understandable. The woman had such a foul mouth.

The mist attacked, snapping connections and erasing obligations. The dark blue and red eyes closed, wands clattered to the floor and the bodies were gently lowered down.

Flhoyer looked at the two still forms. He was now the Master of two absolutely insane, as in medical case insane, Apprentices. The task of molding them into decent _and _sane people would prove challenging.

Dumbledore would be so proud, he was always so keen on second chances. No that he would ever know…

* * *

Draco decided to go to bed early. He wanted to look his best at the dinner with Flhoyer. But it seemed too early for him to fall asleep. Maybe, some relaxation was in order. He was just getting ready for the nice wanking session with a scenario in his mind involving the green-eyed beauty, this very bed and silk ties when a blood-curdling scream broke through the silence of the Manor and effectively killed the mood.

The wizard hurriedly dressed and rushed to his father's office where the scream originated from. Both he and his mother reached the destination at the same time.

His father was lying on the floor, convulsing in pain, screaming hoarser with a second, his throat raw, and clutching his left forearm.

The dark mark under his fingers was melting, the black ugly liquid turning immediately into vapor and disappearing into the air.

Not knowing what to do, they just held Lucius and prevented him from harming himself.

Finally, after ten minutes it was over. The skin in the place of the dark mark was red but otherwise unblemished. The house-elf, answering a silent call, popped in and handed Lucius a glass of water.

The tortured man sat up.

"What just happened?" Draco asked.

"I… I don't know. He is gone? He… died."

The sheer disbelief on his father's face was astounding. Well, to be frank the event was rather anticlimactic.

"I do hope you are not grieving…" drawled Draco who was quite happy with the news.

"No, I don't. Not at all."

For the first time in a long time a small sincere smile graced the elder Malfoy's features. He was free.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN:** This chapter consists almost solely of Harry/Draco interaction. Enjoy!

**NelliGirl**, I am so glad you liked it. =)

**RRW**, Horcruxes will be discussed in due time. And no, (preventing any questions) Harry is not a Horcrux. Not anymore.

**Immortal Sailor Cosmos**, I am still unsure if "eh" is a good or a bad thing. But as I understand the developments surprise you? And surprise is at least good. Not boring. So thank you.

**miss quirky bookworm**, don't feel sorry for him. He inflicted this on himself. ;)

**disgruntledfairy**, it wasn't so much the erasing of memories and name, as the erasing of the established magical identity, a bit like clinical death.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Remus was watching with amusement his godson who seemed to turn the whole house upside down in a matter of minutes. Ryan just came out of the brief shower in a bathrobe, his hair still wet and began, well, dressing, one might say, which was accompanied by some entirely unnecessary motions, like opening and closing the fridge, seeking something in the pile of books on the floor in the library, and just plain running around the house like a fried chicken.

Oh. And he just used a drying charm on his hair. The result was spectacular and reminded Remus of the good old times when Ryan was still Harry and proudly carried around his messy mop of black hair. Only this time his hair was a bit longer, right down to his shoulders (it was cut after being burnt in the _library_) and resembled an irritated hedgehog.

Just as Ryan was passing him for god-knows which time in already half-dressed state and muttering frantically something along the lines "I-am-late-I-am-late-I-am…!", he caught him by the elbow to stop the useless movement and asked.

"Where are you late to?"

The mage was staring at him with wide-open uncomprehending eyes, the true picture of confusion.

"Breathe!"

Ryan breathed in. Breathed out and seemed to calm down a notch.

"Now, what's the hurry for?"

"Well, you see, the other day I agreed to meet with one guy, and now… Now is the fucking time for that meeting and I AM LATE!"

Ooh, so there was some anger there mixed with panic. At whom, Remus wondered.

"When exactly?"

"When exactly what?"

"Is your meeting."

"Seven P.M. And it's already 18:48:56!!!"

"So you will be a bit late," stated the man reasonably wondering how on Earth Flhoyer managed to cite the time, seconds included, on top of his head. "It's nothing awful, besides, it is customary for the invited party to be late for the date."

"Date! Don't be ridiculous, we are both guys!"

Remus couldn't help but gape at the clueless godson with some pity.

"You do know that two men can have sex together? And that most of the wizarding population is bisexual?" He asked hoping that this case was not totally lost. "Gays, homosexual, queer, anything ring a bell?"

Ryan flushed.

"Of course, I know that! What has that got to do with me? Besides it's not a date, just a… I don't know, a mutually beneficial meeting to judge the other party and contemplate an alliance or friendship. Business meeting, in a sense."

Having successfully distracted the mage from his full-blown panic attack, Remus decided to _press_ the issue.

"So this guy, by the way who is it?.."

"Draco Malfoy."

Remus kept silent for a couple of seconds.

"So Draco Malfoy invited you to…"

"Dinner."

"...Dinner with the intention to…"

"To get to know me better."

"…to get to know you better. Sounds like a date to me." Remus was greatly enjoying the interrogation. "By the way, how in hell did you end up having a date with Draco Malfoy, in the first place? I thought nobody knew about your new identity?"

"It isn't a DATE! And no, of, course, I didn't tell him anything, just ran across him a couple of times in Hogwarts. He seemed to be interested in me from the beginning, I just can't figure out why. I guess he is curious about a Lord popping out of nowhere. So you see, it is just a way for him to satisfy his desire for information!"

The werewolf issued a long suffering sigh, thinking that wasn't the only desire that the Malfoy heir would like to satisfy with his godson. After all, he wasn't blind, the cub turned out to be quite an attractive specimen, and Malfoys were always quite promiscuous up until the time they married. Ryan had yet to understand the effect his appearance had on other people. His naivety could get him into trouble.

"Whatever you say, cub. Just let me help to get you ready. Your hysteria is not helping anyone."

For a person not having a date, Ryan was acting in an eerily similar manner to his father before his first date with Lily. Though for different reasons. James was fretting the whole day about not being handsome enough, dressed enough, good enough, etc., and Ryan, as Remus suspected, probably just forgot about time, lost in researching one of his projects.

* * *

The light from the chandelier reflected beautifully from the wine glasses, still empty, standing on the untouched table. Draco Malfoy didn't know what to think. He couldn't believe that anybody, _anybody_, would upstand him on a date. So he was waiting. Bored and hungry and thirsty, he dared not move from his seat or order anything in fear to curse his luck.

Finally, after about half an hour of interior-gazing, the front door let through the figure of his favorite candidate, who was immediately escorted to his table.

Lord Flhoyer looked at him with deep regret and guilt.

"Mister Malfoy, I deeply apologize for my lateness, something came up and I couldn't have come earlier."

Draco decided to be gracious, even though he sensed with his gut that the man was lying. He didn't doubt that he was in some way busy, but he was also sure that Ryan dared to _forget_ about their arrangement. Oh, he was furious, but still grateful that the guy showed up after all. If he didn't… Now _that _would be embarrassing."

"It is no matter. I am glad you managed to escape your duties in the end. And, please, do call me Draco."

"Then you_ must_ call me Ryan."

The young veela shook the extended hand and suppressed a gasp when a wave of small electric pleasurable shocks ran through his body at the contact. Now _that_ wasn't there in the guidebook of his father's about Malfoys and their mates. The urge to moan and yank the alluring body to his side was overwhelming, but he only smiled tightly and gestured for them to sit down.

Ryan thoughtfully examined the menu, quite unsure of what to order and Draco decided to offer his own advice. His companion only smiled, when he began a long-winded explanation of pros and cons of different dishes in the Italian cuisine.

"Perhaps, you can order for me, I am inclined to trust your judgment."

"Very well."

The Malfoy heir nodded and placed an order to the helpful waiter who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere.

The restaurant they were in was not the most expensive one in the wizarding Britain, but Draco liked it nonetheless. It was certainly on a higher scale than the rest of them and the atmosphere was more relaxed and less posh. Not a place one would be ashamed to be invited. Besides, Draco was sure that Ryan wasn't yet up to playing politics, and if they went, for instance, to _Crystal Wines_, where crème-a-la-crème gathered on a day-to-day basis, it would be inevitable.

"How do you like the wizarding Britain so far?" asked Draco genuinely curious.

"Well, I must admit that it is quite different from one's ideal society."

"Is it the polite way of saying that you are disappointed?" the young veela mused.

Ryan across him raked his hand through the now shorter hair. And wasn't that a pity! While Draco willingly admitted that too long hair can be quite troublesome during sex (been there, done that), but with the hair, say, to mid-back his partner would look quite good and at the same time the mane wouldn't get in the way. But it was too early to share his observation with the man. Not quite appropriate.

"If I had high expectations, I would be disappointed, but I knew my family secluded themselves from the wizarding world for a reason."

"Oh? So are you from Britain then? I must admit that I assumed you came from abroad."

"Yes, I was born here, but our family while magical had mostly interacted with the muggle world. In contrast to wizards, muggles are much more innovative and imaginative. It is interesting to watch their progress. We only came to the wizarding world to search for spouses."

"Are you bride-hunting too then?"

"No-no, nothing like that!" Ryan laughed, and Draco was disappointed. That would be so much easier to woo the guy, if it was true. "If I did, I would come here anonymous assuming a Muggleborn identity, not as a Lord. You see, last year our clan was struck down by a disease, I was the eldest to survive. And as I never agreed with the family's isolationist policy, I decided to introduce and integrate the family to the wizarding world."

"What was the reason for the isolation then?"

Draco was glad that Ryan was so forthcoming with the information, and he was finally getting somewhere. At least now, he understood why his snooping around didn't bring any results.

Just at that moment a bottle of vintage wine was delivered and their glasses filled in. The intriguing conservation was temporarily halted.

"To your reunion with the wizarding world!" Draco raised his glass in a toast.

The young Lord smiled and silently raised his glass in answer and carefully sipped the wine.

Their conservation switched to less personal topics such as sports, both muggle and wizarding. Ryan seemed to appreciate his knowledge of the muggle culture. Draco was quite proud of himself too. It took a lot of effort and some high-degree sneakiness to go behind his father's back and acquaint himself with the "enemy". He hated to admit it, but he did agree with his date. The wizarding world was quite stagnant in comparison to Muggles.

It was not long before their dinner arrived.

* * *

Fhoyer couldn't believe he was enjoying his time with Malfoy so much. He was so different from what he remembered. Had he just matured, or was Harry Potter's judgment so clouded? Was _this_ the real Draco Malfoy and was his other persona that portrayed Lucius just a facade?

"You never finished telling me the reason for the isolation," reminded Draco, effectively turning the tide of their dialogue.

"Ah, in short, it was the prejudice and narrow-mindedness of the populace. But, in my opinion, our isolation was quite selfish and didn't help the situation. How can we expect any improvement if we do not help and participate? That seems a bit hypocritical to me."

"Are you saying that you plan for some kind of revolution?" Draco's mouth twitched. Ryan was good, but not that good.

"No, I just want to introduce some ideas and only hope that they would be accepted and implemented by others. For example, I am currently writing a short book about the disadvantages of the wand usage, and believe me, when I say, they _are _detrimental to one's magical core."

Well, Draco wasn't expecting that.

"What do you mean… How else would we perform magic? Only few are capable of wandless magic."

"Ah, and that is where you are wrong!" Ryan's bright eyes were sparkling with excitement. It seemed he was really into the topic. "There is no such thing as wandless magic, but there is wand magic. Wand is just a tool, a conduit for magic, but it is standardized and not well-suited for every person. Any other object can be developed and serve as a conduit, but it requires more creativity and effort than just waving a stick around and citing Latin."

Draco was affronted. After all he was just finishing his education in the prestigious school on "waving a stick around and citing Latin". Ryan's suggestions were quite insulting.

The mage smiled sadly at him.

"And I see from your reaction, that it would be hard to convince anyone of the truth. But one cannot help but to try. I'll give you an example. My Auntie could level a hill and raise a garden with her crotchet. She could knit fire and it took the form she wanted and burned an everlasting flame. If she wished she could rule a country with her power, but used it just for domestic purposes." Of course Ryan didn't have any such aunt, but he read a grimoire of the witch. "An unsuited to the person magical conduit such as a wand, cripples magical core and even if one had the ability to manipulate raw magic, it usually disappears with time because it is not developed properly."

Ryan looked at the frowning wizard and decided to change the topic.

"I probably should just let you read the book when it's out."

"What you say is intriguing but hard to believe. Aren't you using a wand yourself?"

"No, though I don't advertise the fact. At least for now. I know people are afraid of those that differ."

"Can you tell me what you use then, if it' not a secret?"

Ryan looked at him appreciatively.

"I suppose I can. I am one of the few, though there are more than people are inclined to believe, who is capable of raw magic manipulation."

"So in amateur terms, you are wandless?" Draco grinned cheekily. It was getting more and more exciting by the minute.

"I guess," Ryan smiled tentatively, judging his reaction cautiously.

The young veela was suddenly struck by an idea.

"You know, I heard that Ollivander's wand shop was recently decimated. Quite a tragedy, but I guess you would approve."

"Decimated? How interesting," the guy's eyes radiated innocence and vague interest. "Yes, I believe I heard something about the occurrence. So it is not something that happens here in the wizarding world on regular basis then, is it?.. With the Dark Lords running around and creating havoc?"

Oh yes, this one was devious, the chances of them sharing a dormitory were growing. And maybe, Ryan was _that _good after all.

"No, it isn't. Though I believe we've become recently short of one Dark Lord."

"Really?" the wand-hater was now sincerely surprised. What Draco didn't know is that the surprise was at the speed with which this information had spread.

"Yes, haven't you seen today's Daily Prophet?"

"No, I haven't. How did that happen?"

"Nobody really knows, but it is said that the Dark Marks of the prisoners in Azkaban had painfully disappeared. The Ministry believes this means You-Know-Who is dead."

"How curious…"

"Excuse me? Lord Flhoyer?"

The waiter suddenly interrupted their political talk.

"Yes?"

"An owl has just delivered this letter for you."

The man extended an envelope which Ryan graciously accepted and examined.

"It is from Hogwarts. The results of my entrance exams, I believe," he shared with his companion.

"Will you open it?"

"If you don't mind…"

"Go ahead."

Ryan studied the letter for a few minutes then sighed dejectedly.

"Care to share?" implored Draco.

"It seems I am quite deficient in the Potions."

And he was. Quite disappointing. But to be truthful, the Potions branch has developed much from the time when the Knowledge Chambers were built. There were no potions category per se, but Alchemy flourished and he wasn't very good at that too, but proficient enough. The magicals of the time were more concerned with the explosive properties of ingredients, so he knew how to successfully brew mixtures that rivaled atomic and h-bombs, but other properties, like healing, eluded him. Of course, he could recite a number of recipes he managed to learn since his coming back, but the basic understanding was missing.

"How deficient?"

"I haven't progressed beyond OWL level, and quite low OWL level at that. It is regrettable, I would have liked to continue the studies in this subject."

"May I see?"

Ryan handed him the results. Draco's eyebrows raised. Well, potions or no potions, the elusive Lord was certainly not dumb: Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and DADA beyond NEWT level and approaching Mastery, Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy on NEWT level, Transfiguration, Charms and Herbology up to seventh year level. Potions were though an acceptable OWL.

Draco saw the opportunity for what it was and grasped it with two hands.

"I could tutor you in Potions, if you wish. I am quite good at them, in fact I am planning to master in the field after Hogwarts."

Ryan's face became hopeful but it was tempered with some doubt.

"I would welcome your help, but wouldn't it interfere with your own studies?"

"No, I am among the top students, so I have no need whatsoever to catch up, and no, don't even mention it," warned Draco seeing the man posed for another question, "no charge. Besides, it's always good for future Master to try a hand at teaching, it usually deepens one's understanding on the subject even more."

Ryan smiled broadly, his smile lighting his face with joy.

"Thank you. You are my savior."

Draco resisted the urge to proudly puff his chest.

"When are you free to meet then?"

"My schedule is quite flexible, when are you?" Ryan redirected the question.

"Weekends are the best time. What do you say about Sunday after lunch? I'll send you the portkey to the Malfoy Manor. Unless you wish to meet somewhere else?"

"No, that is fine," agreed Ryan, still reeling at the turn of events. When he came here, he certainly wasn't expecting to be invited to Malfoy Manor in two days. He didn't know _what_ he was expecting. "I think I must leave now. It's getting late."

"If you must. I was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise."

Ryan moved the hand to his pouch to pay for his part of dinner.

"Don't," Malfoy's voice stopped his movement. "The dinner is on me. After all, it was my invitation."

"Are you sure? This place looks expensive."

While Ryan knew that to Malfoy this sum was of no importance he still felt uncomfortable.

Draco, on his part, was insulted at the insinuation.

"I can afford it, and more," he scoffed arrogantly.

Ah, here was the Draco Malfoy he knew and loved. Flhoyer was relieved, he already began suspecting he was meeting with a Draco from some alternate reality. So he just grinned.

"Then I have to invite you some other time, too."

"It's a date," agreed Draco.

Ryan started and turned to him with wide frightened eyes.

"Is it?"

Draco understood he was treading a dangerous ground. Now how not to spook this naïve creature…

He decided to choose the friendly-teasing mode.

"Only if you want it to be," he said jokingly, smiling broadly. "Now, you were saying?"

Ryan relaxed and smiled too.

"I was leaving actually. Thank you for the wonderful dinner. I'll have to remember this place."

"You're welcome, see you on Sunday."

"See you soon."

Ryan quickly departed, but Draco wasn't leaving yet. It was not that late of an hour, only about half past nine, so he ordered another bottle of wine and decided to celebrate the first successful date with his future husband by himself. And it was a date, whatever the other thought. But no pressure, he still had some time, limited as it was. Draco just had to lull Ryan into the false sense of security and then attack. He couldn't wait…


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: **Alright, here is the next chapter. Another Harry/Draco interaction. BTW, I will warn you, my dear readers, that our favorite characters will not get together in the nearest time. There will be some complications. So, no jumping for Draco, but the guy can dream, can't he? ;)

**NelliGirl**, well, I haven't exactly thought out their glorious return in detail, but I do believe that Riddle may keep his old name. Not the pseudonym though. Can you imagine Dumbledore's reaction? :D Oh, and I will write more on Dumbledore, he is such an exploitable character, but I won't make him overly evil or manipulative, but... Ok, I am rambling. Anyway, Draco having fun chasing Ryan… Well, I don't know, I think I am a closet sadist, as I am planning to make his life miserable. :P

**DramoSkye**, what would be scary? If you refer to jumping… No, no, I close my mouth not to spoil the surprise, but as I said above – not happening anytime soon. Poor Draco.

**Arieru-chan**, thank you. The sneakiness will be present, and naivety too.

**Haljaruna**, thank you. I appreciate your review. That was high praise, indeed.

**Tarkemelhion**, I think I'll put up the pairing in the summary. A book about apprentices and masters! Yummy! Can you by any chance tell me what book was that? And you like new Harry! I am glad. About my mistakes, I am sorry about them, I hope they don't overshadow the story though. I can't really help oit, English is not my mother-tongue.

**RRW**, Ah! And here we come to the crucial question, what do you yourself think? ;) Ok-ok, I'll answer, if I understood what you mean correctly. Firstly, I despise bottom Draco (I cannot picture it) and read it in very rare cases, if the story plot line is really-really good. I like him dominant or top/bottom, Harry though either bottom or top/bottom. So, their sexual relationship will be somewhere along these lines.

**disgruntledfairy**, wow, thanks, I am glad you liked the chapter. I'll try not to disappoint in the future too.

**mizelissa**, Thank you.

**Anon**, well, when I was writing a summary I meant 'obligatory' in jest, but I guess not everybody understands my subtle sense of humour. _Grin_ But you are right in a way, I should write in the summary more about the story, not on the why I am writing it.

**

* * *

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Chapter 16

It was tricky having two apprentices at the same time, especially these two that even without their memories couldn't keep their hands off each other for longer than an hour. That was in no way beneficial for academic environment he tried to impose.

"Alpha, Beta…"

Bella and Tom sprang away from each other. Ryan despite his fury couldn't help but feel bad about interrupting such a heated make-out session, even if his library table had to suffer.

The mage had to admit they made a nice pair. Tom, as he had already noted at their first official meeting, had somehow acquired his handsome looks back, bar the red snake eyes, and Bellatrix looked quite good too, if you were into the whole gothic emaciated thing. Well, Azkaban was a tough place, and using the Dark Arts continuously after her escape certainly didn't help. Now, due to the peaceful environment the woman already looked healthier, though in no way in top form. Yet.

"How is your meditation progressing? And no, by meditation I do not mean your engagement in carnal activities."

It was fun seeing the two fearsome people cringe at his disapproving tone as little children. But, they certainly weren't children. Ryan thought it was high time to buy some contraceptive potions. Pregnancy wasn't something he wanted to deal with during this Apprenticeship, or any Apprenticeship for that matter.

"Have you reached your magical core yet?" the mage purposefully kept his tone light.

"No."

"Me either."

"What seems to be the problem?"

They both looked guilty and chastised.

"Not enough time? I guess I'll just have to provide you with it. From now on, you will be secluded into two _separate_ rooms of this house, and provided with food and water and study materials on a regular basis. Curfew is at ten. Disobey, and I will know. When you reach your core, you will be released from your seclusion and regain your freedom of movement unless you disregard my instructions again. Am I UNDERSTOOD?"

"Yes, Master."

The sulking ex-Dark Lord presented a funny picture. In retrospective. Now Flhoyer was jus plainly angry. Here he was, offering them once in a million chance to improve themselves, and his Apprentices didn't appreciate it. At all. And he _knew_ that Tom Riddle was a brilliant student at Hogwarts. Maybe, Bella was a bad influence.

Speaking of the witch, she had tears in her eyes and her lower lip quivered.

Ryan remained stern.

"This is not the end of the world. Alpha, follow me. Beta, remain here until I come to escort you to your quarters."

Hopefully, this will speed up the process. He didn't plan the Apprenticeship to extend to his school year. Well, he would prolong it, if he had to, but it would be bothersome. Besides, Ryan considerably limited the reading material. It shouldn't take a lot of time for his Apprentices to go through it, if they weren't constantly distracted. He left the bookshelf with grimoires on inborn languages, everything that dealt with Dark and Light magic, and about thirty grimoires that helped to improve general knowledge and historical background. Some information he would teach them the old-fashioned way, face-to-face. He didn't want to share the whole Sohhare's library with them. After all, they were enemies before, and it was not a given that they wouldn't turn on him when they earned their Callings. He didn't think so, but wanted to keep an edge, nevertheless, if this scenario came to pass.

And they still were insane, thankfully passive insane at the moment. And it couldn't be helped before they acquainted themselves with their magical cores.

* * *

Ryan stepped out of the Floo with barely a hint of losing his balance. That was certainly an improvement over his usual hurtling out of the fireplace and landing on all fours on a good day. It would seem that his morning training sessions with Moony had paid off after all.

The werewolf took his proposition to wrestle unexpectedly seriously and immediately informed him that there would be no wrestling until he acquired more muscles on his bones and trained up a bit. And, wouldn't you know, Remus turned out to be more than qualified to teach martial arts. Flhoyer now regarded the deceptively haggard academic with the new-found respect. It appeared, that the years of travelling the world after Ryan's parents death were not spent in vain. The werewolf learned a lot of knowledge, dangerous knowledge and received some high quality training in martial arts. He returned to England more than ready to avenge his deceased friends and protect his cub. But with finding out that Sirius was not the traitor and further distractions artfully created by Dumbledore he diverted from his path and continued to play the usual part of a good submissive wolf. Now he was slowly shedding the assumed persona, but still would not fully open up to Flhoyer. Well, the mage himself had his fair share of secrets, so he would let his godfather keep his own. In any case, the werewolf still provided great companionship and an intelligent company.

Shooting another smug look at the fireplace he exited, Flhoyer looked around.

The parlour was, as expected, both richly and elegantly decorated in blue and white colours. Cold colours, cold welcome, but he guessed it fitted the image of an icy pureblood house the Malfoys chose to project.

The man didn't have to admire the surroundings for long. A house-elf popped in front of him and informed that Master Draco would be along shortly.

Sure enough, Malfoy showed up in a minute, even at home dressed in fancy robes – grey with silver trimming. Ryan on the inside felt a bit uncomfortable. He himself was dressed in ordinary black robes with simple cut black trousers and shirt and must have looked underdressed in comparison.

"Ryan! Welcome to Malfoy Manor!" The mage was shocked by the sincere teeth-shining grin that was bestowed upon him. He even had the impression that he would be hugged, but no, they simply shook hands.

"Good afternoon, Draco. I hope I am not late?"

"No, just in time. Would you like a tour?"

"A tour? That would be interesting. How long would it take, though?"

"Well, the Manor _is_ rather large. Does the time matter?"

"Yes, at the moment. But, if it is possible, I would like the tour some other time."

Malfoy looked disappointed.

"It is. Next time, then. Let's go to the library. Do you want anything to drink?"

"Earl Grey tea would be fine."

The wizard snapped his fingers and ordered an elf to bring the requested tea and some coffee to the library, then he motioned his guest to move along.

Ryan followed the host into the Manor, listening attentively to the comments about the surroundings that they passed. The house was huge, it rather resembled a castle than a mere manor. His attention was soon turned to the vast corridor they were crossing, its walls decorated with beautiful tapestries, magical and moving. He paused in his walk, mesmerized by one of them. This particular tapestry illustrated a Desert Dragon, whose golden scales shone in the sun highlighted with splotches of red along its ridge, tail and wings. The creature roared soundlessly and dug its silver sparkling claws into the heated sand between the dunes. Magnificent.

These dragons were now extinct and only few pictures and paintings remained.

The mage extended his hand, his fingertips stopping an inch short of the surface of the fabric and not daring to touch.

He then came out of his daze and searched for his companion. Malfoy stood just two feet away from him and waited for him patiently.

Ryn blushed, embarrassed at his own actions.

"Excuse me, but this tapestry is one of the kind. You should treasure it. It is beautiful."

The blonde gave him an intense look and smiled.

"It is no trouble, now I am sure you would like that tour the next time you come around. They are many works of art and unique artifacts in the manor, that you will appreciate."

"I am looking forward to it."

On that their small talk ended and they entered the Malfoy Great Library.

Ryan was understandably in awe. Never in his life he has seen a library of such parameters. The Little Whinning Library was pretty modest, Hogwarts' – rather big, but the Malfoy Great Library was truly great. The mage had to physically restrain himself not to go on the rampage in this heaven. He was a knowledge seeker, and who knows what treasures this room entailed, after all he had already seen the Desert Dragon tapestry casually hung on the stone wall, and that was a priceless item.

Flhoyer discreetly pinched himself on the arm and chanted in his head a litany of "potions-potions-potions…" That seemed to help. Marginally.

Not the ones to procrastinate, they got straight to business. Malfoy questioned him on his knowledge brutally and came to the conclusion.

"You seen to know the recipes well enough, but lack the background knowledge about the properties of ingredients and their proper preparation. A recipe does not include all the details."

"It doesn't?" Ryan was honestly surprised. Malfoy merited him with scathing glance.

"No, it does not. I am of course going to instruct you and supply you with the materials to fill in your gaps of knowledge, but right now, I am going to introduce you to the two methods of brewing and the secret of success."

His tutor then led him to the potions laboratory a story below. It was unsurprisingly neat and ordered.

"We are going to start with a first year potion as an example. Bruise Balm. The ingredients are already prepared and on the worktable. And you better change your robe into the working one, there is one behind you on the hanger.

Ryan smiled at Malfoy in gratitude and silently obeyed.

"Let's begin. First of all, start the fire and fill the cauldron with gallon of water… Good. Now put two middle sized ivy roots on the board and start cutting… Stop, this is wrong, to bring out the soothing qualities of the roots you have to cut them at an angle and at 2mm thickness max. Correct. Now set them aside and take rabbit's liver…"

The instruction continued as followed, Ryan cutting, chopping or grinding and Malfoy cutting through with precise and emotionless advice. He proved to be a remarkably efficient teacher.

In half an hour the potion was ready, its grey colour only a few shades off. The brewer was proud of himself. For him this was an accomplishment, even if it was some low-grade first-year potion. Almost perfect quality.

"That was the first method," Draco supplied to Ryan, who was still marveling at the contents of the cauldron. "It is the most widely used one and is a clinical in its nature. In order to perfect it one has to be intimately familiar with the Potions Preparations Compendium. If one minor detail of instruction is missed, you'll get only a satisfactory potion in the best case scenario. With this technique, acquired through hard labour, one can become a successful brewer but never a Potions Master. Masters are the ones that have an intuitive knowledge of the subject. I do not know if you are capable of it, but I'll guide and test you. Bottle the balm (it is quite good) and prepare the cauldron and the ingredients anew."

Ryan nodded, suddenly distracted from his observation of the torches' fire reflecting in quicksilver eyes. The view was entrancing.

"Where are the ingredients?"

"A cupboard on your left."

* * *

The Malfoy heir on his part was casually sitting up on the writing desk and watching his student shuffle around. The look of concentration and seriousness on his charge's face was compelling. He never expected Ryan to be such an avid listener, but then he still didn't know much about the guy, being the mystery that he was. A smile flickered on his face briefly. Draco was looking forward to unraveling the personality of his chosen mate. It would take some time, but if everything went to plan he would have a lifetime to solve the puzzle, so there was no hurry in that aspect. The initiation of the bond was another matter.

"I am ready."

"Good. Now prepare the roots… Yes, take the knife and close your eyes. Touch the ivy root and remember in your mind to concentrate on the soothing sensation, call up the magic and let it guide the process…"

* * *

Ryan did as he was being told. 'Concentrate on soothing' – no problem with that, his Dreamer training made him adept at mastering emotions and dividing them up. His mind was more strong and ordered than that of any Master Occlumense. Calling up the magic and letting it be the guide was more difficult but still went along the same lines. He submerged his subconscious part with magic and granted it limited control of his body and began cutting. Malfoy's voice and his instructions disappeared into the background. That didn't deter his progress. The Dreamer's conscious part of mind remembered the instructions from the previous brewing well enough, so he continued chopping, grinding, cutting, tossing and stirring as meant to, periodically tweaking the leash on his subconscious self to keep him in the right direction.

In half-an-hour, the potion was finished and Ryan returned his consciousness to the forefront of his mind and opened his eyes. The brew was _perfect._ Perfect shade, perfect smell, perfect colour and perfect texture.

* * *

Draco was, mildly put, shocked. It seemed that Ryan not only had the natural ability but was some kind of a prodigy in the field at the same time. Even in the case that his student proved to be gifted, the wizard was still expecting some fumbling along the way, right and wrong moves mixed. Nobody was _that_ good at their first intuitive brewing, not even himself, and Draco's talent in Potions was widely acknowledged.

"I don't have the intuitive ability," stated the Potions prodigy a bit disappointed.

His tutor spluttered in outrage, which was unbefitting for a Malfoy, but Draco didn't care at the moment.

"Then what do you call this?!" he gestured at the cauldron.

"Oh, that… That was actually cheating on my part."

"Cheating?"

"Well, I do have this ability that helps me imitate the natural ability of intuitive brewing."

The young veela closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

"I don't understand what you are trying to say. From where I stand, you do have it."

"Well, maybe I'll explain it to you some other time. Just know that I have a way to perform intuitive brewing without having a natural gift."

Draco snorted, still miffed at the proceedings, but reigned in his anger reminding himself that he will have a whole lifetime to get to the bottom of this, if he didn't screw up on the earlier stages.

"Who needs natural ability, when your mimicking is accomplishing more."

"I don't think it is. I _know_ I won't be able to invent new potions or easily make adjustments to old ones, and though I can try, I won't be on the same level with any Potion's Master.

"We'll see," Draco acquiesced a bit satisfied. He admitted, if even to himself, that he felt threatened by the ingenuity of his companion. He prided himself on his talents and didn't like anyone surpassing him. He wasn't obsessive about others more successful than him, but he still was a little jealous, _rationally_ jealous. It only pushed him to try harder and accomplish more. For one to undermine all of his hard work in such a casual manner, even if it was not intentional and came from such a gorgeous guy, still hurt. "You still have to study the Potions Preparations Compendium in the end. Neither clinical, nor intuitive brewers are exempt from it, if they want to be successful. Whichever type of brewer you are, you will benefit from this knowledge…"

"Wasn't going to argue," Ryan butted in.

Draco glared at him half-heartedly at the interruption, but continued.

"In our lessons I will talk about the ingredients required for taking OWLs and further if we have time and you wish it."

Ryan beamed.

"Thank you. I think I would love to."

* * *

Ryan left shortly after, in a hurry to check on his own Apprentices. Alpha raised the automatic alarm he set on the sealed rooms, which meant that his student finally reached his core. That was actually pretty quick, but the mage should have taken into account that Voldemort was Master Legillimense and Occlumense, it obviously sped up the process.

Still, he was reluctant to leave. Malfoy… No, _Draco_ was _so_ interesting, and smart… and intriguing… And… Was it selfish to point out again that the Malfoy Library was truly great? He simply couldn't wait for his next visit!


	17. Chapter 17

**AN:** So Here's a new chapter. Hope, you'll enjoy it, though I must warn you that there will be no Draco/Harry in this part.

**miss quirky bookworm**, well, maybe "cheating" is not exactly the right term, I just meant that he mimicked the natural ability. It is more like the difference between natural diamonds and artificially grown diamonds, than between natural diamonds and fake diamonds. Draco, soon? Don't know. We'll see. It will take some time to get them together. In my opinion, it would be less interesting otherwise.

**Arieru-chan**, yeah he does love books, but nor for them being books but for them being the carriers of knowledge. Tom and Bella… Hm-m. Just wait and you'll see. ;)

**NelliGirl**, Thank you. I like that Draco character is not carton, my line story lies more with Ryan, so I am afraid I may neglect other characters unintentionally. I tried to make Flhoyer powerful, but not all-powerful, that would be dull, if he had no obstacles.

**Sylkie**, haha, how right you are, though I am not sure it will come to that. =)

**cyiusbalck**, updated. ;)

**Killer of the Night**, wow, I am glad you like the story. I'll try to update regularly.

**Starflower-Gem**, haha, I didn't think of this in that light. You are right, of course. Though, Ryan doesn't yet realize how exactly he wants Draco. =)

**Lady-Minty**, I am not exactly sure if a coma is considered a positive or negative feedback, but thank you for the increased review points, nevertheless. :D

**HPDMsasunaru**, your senses are right, but Ryan despite his smarts can be dense in some departments.

**RRW**, oh my, I totally forgot about Ron and Hermione. I don't like the characters too much and they will not play a major part in this story, but I think I must mention them nevertheless. Ollivander will be in the next chapter, I think.

**Moyima**, thank you! I quite like them myself. =)

**Tarkemelhion**, ah, Raymond Feist, I do believe I've read it, though it was some time ago, and I remember the contents only partially. Good books though. Thank you for your opinion on my English, it may be good because I study in English and currently read literature exclusively in English. My first language is Russian.

**hollypawlover**, I really don't think that my changing POVs are that difficult, I try to mention the name of the viewer in the beginning. It s my opinion that POV should be mentioned when the storyline is presented by the first person and Iwrite it in the third person. And I am sorry to say, but Harry won't go back to being Harry Potter on the large scale again. Harry Potter is dead. Thought, I would warn you beforehand.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

When Ryan finally arrived at his training premises, he was subjected to the picture of utter despair, that his Apprentice Alpha currently represented. The tall man was hunched, with his head lying on the library's table, face obstructed from view by the long bangs.

"You reached your core."

"Yes, Master."

That was not a real question and not any real answer, but it was a start.

"Why are you sad?"

"Sad?" Apprentice looked up and stared at him with the beginnings of fury, namely a temper tantrum, in his slitted eyes. "Sad doesn't even begin to describe how I feel! It's outrageous how my core is damaged! Who did this to me? Why? Will you answer?"

By the end of the tirade, Alpha reached across the table and grabbed Ryan on the front of his robes. The mage grimaced at this uncouth behavior. He calmly squeezed the offending arms and twisted them painfully. He would not tolerate any disrespect from his Apprentice.

Alpha's face twisted and he tried to free his hands from the grip to no avail. Clearly, the Dark Lord couldn't boast at his physical prowess, while Ryan was improving in leaps and bounds in the department with the help of his genius godfather.

"You will _never_ do that again, do you understand?!"

"Yes, Master," complied Alpha, his voice still resentful.

Ryan released Riddle and sat down at the table, gesturing for his Apprentice to do the same.

"First of all, I don't know what is wrong with your core and who did it. Why don't you tell me about it? Then we will search for a solution."

Alpha sighed.

"It is hard to describe, can I show you?"

"You are inviting me to your core? You do realize that is a very intimate procedure and is a grave violation if not done with the owner's permission? It is very serious, I will know much more about you, see your soul, your strengths, your weaknesses. Are you sure?"

"I trust you… Master."

The small smile on the face of the vicious murderer looked foreign, but his eyes conveyed sincerity. Perhaps, there was hope yet. Or Riddle simply couldn't not trust him, after all the mage was already in control and could technically do anything to his Apprentice. Power vise. The will of apprentices should never be suppressed. Counterproductive. And unethical.

"Very well. Stand up and give me your hands."

The mage moved around the table to stand near his apprentice, who warily extended his bruised arms. Ryan turned them over palms facing him and covered them with his own hands. They were now standing close to each other, their palms touching gently. Flhoyer looked up to see Alpha's eyes. Damn, but the bugger was tall. The intensity of the eyes' lock grew. Ryan took a step closer almost touching Riddles chest and finally dove into the crimson eyes.

* * *

The mage's body remained standing and motionless, however his amazingly green eyes were now vacant. The owner's mind missing. Alpha was still conscious, but he felt a tug on his insides and shivered. The sensation was beyond intimate, he never imagined it would feel like this. The dirty thought of eliminating the body standing so helplessly before him crossed his mind despite the solemn moment. However, it wasn't wise to harm someone, who could tear apart your essence from the inside, and, strangely enough, the idea of hurting his Master was repulsive to him. So he waited.

* * *

Riddle's core was dark, which came as no surprise and was perfectly natural. It was littered with silver flecks and it was definitely damaged. Torn and crudely sewn together. The rough joints glared with small holes and were the sickly red colour.

Ryan saw the problem. He just didn't know what exactly this problem was. To tear the core, the very essence of a magical being, seemed preposterous. Who would do that?

Ollivander was perhaps capable, but that didn't look like his style. He eradicated his adversaries not maimed them. One good point to be said about the old man is that he was certainly logical and rational: "do not leave an enemy behind" and all that rot. The mage counted the rips. There were seven.

Flhoyer relaxed the grip of his will on his mind and it automatically rushed to the original body. Seeing into another's core was very much like possession, but in a way even more dangerous.

The green orbs regained the lost spark and the brows moved closer to each other in a frown. Ryan stepped back from Alpha, terminating the skin contact between their hands.

"I see. I cannot answer about your questions into who, how and why immediately. Also I don't know how to fix it yet. But I will sooner or later. I'll have to research."

Apprentice was clearly disappointed, but nodded in understanding, nevertheless.

"You've done a good and swift job in reaching your core. That I commend. For now I want you to continue to read through the library and take notes on any information you deem important. Do not actively practice magic, it could jeopardize your core in its current condition. I should be back in a few days and hopefully we will have the solution to your problem by that time. Fare well."

Ryan looked seriously into Alpha's eyes trying to convey his commitment and understanding, nodded in parting and_ shifted_. He suddenly had a lot of urgent work to do.

* * *

It was a lucky day for the bookstores' owners in Knockturn Alley. A visitor, that previously none of the shop owners encountered in their line of business, swooped down on the dark arts' haven and practically emptied their stock on the Dark Arts' books, not really discriminating between branches, buying items with both milder and more sinister contents, but paying larger attention to the soul arts, the most dangerous of the dark arts. It was the discussion of the night in _Dementor's Bone _pub, just who the mysterious visitor was. Nobody distinguished his features under the deep hood, except that this one was male and had gleaming green eyes, not really much to go on by. Many suggestions were brought to the table, bets were made, someone even suggested that the missing Dark Lord changed his identity and was as usual heavily relying on the use of magical contacts – "coming in various colours and pupil shapes, only today – two for one!" Well, this someone _was _receiving some percentage of the sales of a particular optical store for distribution and the endorsement of its products.

Meanwhile the mysterious figure arrived to the spacey house lost in the forests of Scotland.

Ryan entered the part of the building with restricted access, meaning that he was the only one capable of crossing the shielding. This part of the premises consisted of one bedroom, his private library, small modern kitchen and a study.

He lighted the fireplace and settled himself on the soft green-coloured carpet with golden patterns in the middle of the library. Ryan acquired over a hundred books on this fruitful day. Not all of them were bought as the research material for solving Riddle's problem, some just picked his fancy. But if he wanted to indulge himself this much often, then he must look into increasing his investments. He was a rich person, but his expenditures since he returned after his apprenticeship were also vast. According to the bank statements his vault contents were already emptied by quarter.

As far as he knew goblins dealt only marginally with Muggle business world, so he could convert a part of his galleons to pounds or whatever currency was needed, entrust it into a highly ranked agency and go on with his merry little escapades in the magical world. He certainly didn't have enough time to get into nuances of finance himself.

While going through changes in his plans, Flhoyer covered the floor around him in the circle of books, and there were over a hundred of them. While situating them, he imbued each one of them with an ounce of his magic and now called for these bits to search for the word "soul".

Only fifteen books remained unglowing.

Ryan sighed and separated them from the rest. It would be a long search. He for god-knows-which-time regretted that he couldn't access the blocked memories of his Apprentice, he only could remove the block entirely and he didn't dare to do that till the end of the Apprenticeship.

As far as he deducted till this point in time, such damage to the core could be done only if the person's soul was similarly damaged. But there was no resemblant occurrence described in the grimoires' on soul arts in Sohhare's library. So he went to search for other sources. He was thankful he had given an order for Gringotts to empty and regain control of the Grimmauld Manor already a week ago. A few more days and the Black Library will also be in his reach. Flhoyer swallowed the beginnings of drool forming in his mouth.

The mage looked again at the glowing books. It was going to be a long night… Up till ten o'clock. He really hated his biological curfew mechanism. Still, an hour was left, he better get started.

* * *

A familiar chirp woke a seasoned wizard from his slumber on the desk in his office.

The Headmaster grimaced at the stale citrus flavour in his mouth and considered changing his candy choice, but quickly dismissed the idea. It could cause massive panic in the wizarding world. Albus Dumbledore abandoning his dear lemon drops? No way, was the world coming to an end?

The old man looked around shiftily and with an undercover wand flick froze the portraits. Nobody would ever know his greatest secret. The wizard carefully unwove the impenetrable defenses, which rivaled the goblin ones, on his desk drawer, opened it slowly and breathed in admiration at seeing the contents. The whole stash of Mars bars.

Headmaster reverently tore the cover and gorged himself on this chocolate delicacy. Life was good.

Even though he and his Order were booted out of the Grimmauld place. Even though the goblins, the nasty creatures, refused to disclose the identity of the current owner. Even though… No, actually life was good, _because_ Voldemort died and no longer marred the picture. Severus reported that he died shortly, or even immediately, after disappearing with Bellatrix on some quest. Albus reckoned this quest proved to be quite dangerous if the Dark Lord died on the first steps. Well, no big loss. He still, though, mourned the disappearance of Harry Potter, his chosen successor. He didn't know what happened but was finally coming to terms with a possibility that the boy may _really _be dead. The paths of destiny were mysterious and inscrutable for mortal minds. Perhaps, he just wasn't able t comprehend and interpret the prophesy correctly, and it fulfilled itself without any outside help.

The Headmaster was at a loss with whom to replace Harry Potter. It didn't matter that Voldemort was dead, he still needed someone to continue his line of work – to present an example of nobility and goodness to the wizarding society, to be a symbol and to protect. It couldn't wait for long, he would have to look more closely at the student population next year, and perhaps even venture abroad. How troublesome…


	18. Chapter 18

**AN:** The chapter's all about Horcruxes. No romance. Just warning. Also, my theory about Horcruxes might not be canon, I confess, that I haven't read the last HP book, but got enough knowledge to see the overall picture from reading fanfiction PostDH and AU. _grin_

**Arieru-chan**, thank you for your attention, following up – all that you want to know about Horcruxes and all that you don't.

**potter29**, =)

**disgruntledfairy**, thanks, you are quite right. Heh, ya know, when I was making these two guys Flhoyer's apprentices, I kinda forgot about the Horcruxes, then remembered and am now dealing with the issue. It truly is the pain in the ass, the plot just got much more complicated. _tear. _I really feel for Ryan.

**Sylkie**, and the answer to that question – tam-da-da-dam! - is in this chapter. =)

**miss quirky bookworm**, well, everyone is not exactly _every_one, but yeah there should be some interesting reactions in the future.

**NelliGirl**, well, about that you can read in this chapter. And I honestly hope to fix up Tom too. I really hope it'll work.

**RRW**, ah, no, they're not part of this equation, but...

**Tarkemelhion**, well, I'm afraid the secret is very disappointing. If you see any weird sounding names along the way, then you can most certainly assume that they are random. I make them up along the way. Flhoyer... Well, I tried to make some half-ass attempt in making up a Celtic-sounding name without doing proper research into the language. Lazy me. =( So, I may be off the target.

**muumuu12**, thanks for the review! Hope, you continue to read the story! To be honest, when I wrote the first chapter, I _really_ planned to make it a short standard veela story, but then HP disappeared somewhere and I had to think up where to he disappeared... I often have trouble with misbehaving characters, they resist my plans and change the plot along the way... But that makes writing so much more fun! _Grin_

**lady sacura cosmos**, thank you!

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* * *

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Chapter 18

"I have discovered something," Master Flhoyer's voice jerked Alpha from his absorption with the earth mage's grimoire. For some inane reason he felt angry with himself. He should have been more aware of his surroundings. Such a failure to notice someone sneaking up on him was not acceptable. Alpha wondered if that was some remnant emotion from his blocked memories.

"What is it, Master?"

His Master sat leisurely on a chair across him and continued.

"Such a damage to your core is merely a reflection of the damage inflicted upon your soul."

Alpha pressed his lips together to keep himself from making any unnecessary noises and asking stupid questions. His Master was not yet finished with his explanation.

"As to how and who did that, this still remains unclear. Though, there was a technique of splitting one's soul in order to achieve immortality in ancient Egypt. It was known only to pharaohs and zealously guarded. It created a similar though more clear-cut tear on their soul and only one tear at that. The piece of soul was separated from pharaoh when he murdered one or more of his servants, who willingly offered their lives for a higher purpose. This piece was then stored in an object. When the pharaoh died whether violently or from old age and sickness, his soul did not leave the world of the living, anchored by the stored part of it, and soon after the man was resurrected at such an age when the soul container was created.

However, such artificial recycling of soul could only be done to an extent, and it prolonged pharaoh's life only to approximately half a millennium. In time the human soul had become obsolete as it was never meant to last this long on this plane. Approximately on the fifteenth try the resurrection ritual failed and the pharaoh title passed down to another one of his relatives.

Due to the inbreeding happening within the royal family in hopes to maintain the purity of the line, the magical nature of the rulers of Egypt was instead bred out and as a non-magical person cannot use the soul separation ritual, it fell into disuse and the knowledge was purposefully and continuously erased by the non-magical pharaohs in fear that some distant _magical_ relative would get their hands on the technique and usurp the throne. The future researchers were left only with rumors and vague descriptions of the technique written by the witnesses of the old court that were not annihilated only by the grace of luck."

His Master fell silent letting the Apprentice to draw the conclusions himself.

Alpha sighed, the implications of this brief history lesson clawing their way into his conscious mind.

"I did it to myself, didn't I?" He was pretty sure he did. Who wouldn't want to achieve at least a semblance of immortality?

"We do not know that for sure, but it is likely." Alpha was grateful for the neutral and unassuming tone of his teacher. "Somebody, maybe even you, must have developed some similar technique, based on the ancient lore, so we undoubtedly will be dealing with those soul containers in order to..."

His consciousness blinked away for a second and he suddenly became aware that his Master was looking at him strangely. Intently.

"Did something happen?"

"It did. You said a word."

"Did I?"

"You did."

"What word was that?"

"Horcrux," Flhoyer slowly and clearly pronounced, watching him avidly.

The word stirred something in his mind. Fear, pride, pain, a burning desire... for something.

"It does sound familiar, but I do not know of what or who it is."

His Master nodded, accepting his words. "It may prove helpful. Do continue with your studies, I'll be back as soon as I uncover anything new."

With these parting words the man disappeared, the black-clad body fading from existence. Alpha sighed. He hoped he would receive these answers soon. Or he just might disobey some of his Master's orders. Such as not practicing magic.

* * *

With some wiggling of his fingers, Ryan started another one of his library searches. Only two books from his whole collection responded with an even blue glow. The mage opened the first book and was disappointingly met with only one paragraph on the subject of Horcruxes.

_Horcrux_

_A horcrux is an object of most evil and darkest magicks which must be destroyed at all costs or avoided if the wizard's power is weak and not enough to withstand the lure of the vile spirit. In order to destroy this object, one can use either the most corrosive substances in the world such as Basilisk's venom, manticore's acid and Hellfire, or the objects of unquestionable purity – Phoenix's or unicorn's blood willingly given. Lest us mention this great evil no more and erase any trace of it from the face of Earth for all times._

Well, that was enlightening. Not. Though it did stir some old memories and Ryan began to get some vague idea about what exactly those Horcruxes were. If he was right, then the author of this book was wrong and very impressionable kind of guy. And quite unhelpful at that - some directions about identifying a Horcrux would be nice.

Ryan reached for the other book. Well, at least this one was a bit more informative.

_Through creating Horcruxes a person, usually a dark wizard, tries to reach immortality. In order to achieve the necessary tearing of one's sowl, one has to commit the act of greatest evil – a murder, but not just any murder but a kill accompanied by total annihilation of the victim's sowl. The backlash of such a sinuous action tears straight into the perpetrator's sowl, making it possible for one to dislodge a piece of one's sowl and guide it with the proper magicks into the chosen object – sowl container, otherwise called Horcrux. In the case of death..._

The rest of the short chapter talked about what he already did know. Resurrection ritual and ways to destroy a Horcrux. No details, though. Ah, but this piece of information was certainly interesting.

_The technique of creating Horcruxes is rumoured to be recreated by one Salazar Slytherin during the years of exile when he left Hogwarts to never return again. His research was lost and if..._

Ryan smirked. Well, he just discovered what would be his next stop in this self-imposed quest. At the very least, there never could be enough of such rare materials as Basilisk's poison and scales.

The mage shook his head, just to think that if it hadn't been for the poor grammar of the guy, he would've furthered his search some time ago. Well, he was getting somewhere _now_. Though, if he understood everything correctly, Riddle will have to live on with at least two tears on his magical core. One Horcrux was destroyed when he pierced Riddle's diary with the Basilisk's fang, the other was processed and transformed beyond recognition when he integrated the strange magical essence surrounding his scar. Ryan could only pray that the remaining Horcruxes were safe, otherwise there would be no cure. He hoped that by fixing the five tears the other two would be able to heal themselves in time. After all, soul was not a constant but an ever-changing entity.

* * *

Mauvi was happily slithering through the underbush in the Forbidden forest when she was unexpectedly snatched off her course by a human hand. The snake trashed its tail in anger, but her head was firmly locked by the aggressor.

"_Where is the entrance to the great Slytherin chambers?"_

Mauvi stilled. A parselmouth? The snake stared into the mesmerizing green eyes, hypnotized in spite of her nature and will.

"_I'll guide you_..."

* * *

Ryan barely restrained himself from kissing the snake on its head. He lost count of the reptiles in the forest that he had questioned on the whereabouts of the Chamber of Secrets. Come to think of it, it was probably not the smartest move on his part, but he couldn't just boldly invade Hogwarts. The wards would have alerted the Headmaster. And he didn't have time to wait till his next official visit.

Faithfully following the snake's directions who curled itself around his hand, the mage came face to surface with the moss covered stone.

"_The entrance is here._"

"_How does it open?_"

"_Move!_" hissed the snake at the stone. Unsurprisingly enough the rock moved revealing a hole, that supposedly led to a tunnel.

"_Huh, so Slytherin _really_ wasn't the imaginative kind of guy,_" mused Ryan aloud.

"_Oh, he could be imaginative in some aspects_," the shake corrected him dourly, "_but he also was practical._"

The mage concentrated his full attention on the sulking snake.

"_Hm-m... By the way, how _do _you know about the Chamber of Secrets and Slytherin personality quirks?_"

"_Why should I answer you? I had already helped you enough as it is._"

"_Now-now, that is no way to talk to a man who holds your head in his fingers. And can crush you... But, if you won't answer, that's alright, I'll let you be on your way, lily snake._"

Having said those words, Ryan deposited the snake on the ground and dived into the tunnel.

* * *

Mauvi, being for a second stumped, could only helplessly stare as the man foolishly jumped into the open hole without checking the depth of it.

"_Hey, what about the part where you take me with you as your familiar?!_"

Her furious hissing echoed through the walls of the artificial underground cave, unfortunately not registering by the ears of the intended recipient.

"_Dumb human._"

* * *

Ryan groaned. Shifted a bit and groaned again. What was the last thing he remembered? Oh yeah... Jumping into the tunnel. Another groan escaped his lips. Damn, that was incredibly stupid. But that's what you get for using Felix Felicis, while it grants you luck, in his case luck to stumble upon the knowledgeable snake, it makes one also very reckless. An unavoidable side-effect.

The mage squinted at the distant light above. Well, at the very least the fall wasn't fatal. _Lu-cky_. He hoped the potion had worn off already. He didn't need any more luck of this kind.

Moaning and groaning and swearing in several different languages, Ryan got up and made his way through the only arch in the fairly large cave and traveled the tunnel with the glowing orb of light illuminating the passage.

Soon enough the tunnel ended with a familiar door with the entwined metal snakes on the surface.

"_Open_."

Well, that part was simple.

The Chamber hadn't changed a bit. The Basilisk corpse was still lying there impressing with its monstrous size. It wasn't rotting yet too, which was not surprising. While Basilisk's fang's poison was universally known as the most potent poison, it was often omitted and forgotten that's the king snake's blood was also poisonous but not as lethal as its bite (in comparison, you died from its bite in a matter of a minute, and from ingested blood - in a matter of a day). So the blood preserved the mythic reptile's tissues even after its death.

Ryan kicked the body of his own downed monster and tried to feel for a moment like one of those knights of the fairy-tales, he managed to sneakily read in his cupboard - fighting dragons and evil warlocks, rescuing princesses...

The mage shook his head. It seemed, the luck potion hadn't worn out yet. Still, it was time to start working.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN:** So... Here's a new chappie. Sorry for such a delay, but I got sidetracked, lost in discovering the two wonderful fandoms of Naruto and Bleach. Kyaa! Aren't they cool? Anyway, as usual after such a long absense I post only as much as I have written some time ago, so not much at all. It's a short piece, but hopefully I'll update soon with a larger chapter and do it more frequently. So... Hope, you'll enjoy!

**Chapter 19**

The flat stone surface seemed to mock him. Ryan _knew _there was a secret chamber behind the wall on the left of the grotesque statue. But neither his hissing out various verbs like "move", "open", "reveal" and "speak to me Slytherin, the greatest of the Hogwarts four" nor trying to find some secret key or handle were helping. And he _sensed_ that it was there! Already an hour has passed, and insults as it seemed were not working either. The wall remained a wall and he felt quite dumb spending his time _talking _to it. That's it. It was time to switch tactics.

"_If you won't open this instant, I'll tear down the wards, smash the stone and marauder the quarters..._"

No reaction. Well, at least he had the decency to warn the... whatever it was he was talking to. Ryan drew the magic slowly but steadily from his core and gathered it into his right arm. Raw power was circulating and slowly transforming into a drill. Just another ten seconds and...

With an ear-splitting grating sound, part of the fell back on itself and melted forming an entrance. The mage's grin represented all the malevolence and superiority he felt at the moment. Finally!

He stepped into the room and narrowed his eyes at the darkness. Adding a bit more power into the still not discarded drill he cheerily asked: "_Light?_"

The torches flared revealing an immaculate-looking office combined with library.

"What do you want here, boy?" asked the sulky voice.

Ryan looked around and soon found the source of it in the frame of a portrait. The background of the painting was somewhat similar to the office he was standing in. It was filled with the same furniture with snake-carvings but the premises seemed to be different. Sitting at the large distinguished looking table was a middle-aged man, with an aristocratic looking face, brown-reddish hair and dark-blue eyes.

"_Why if it isn't Salazar Slytherin, the greatest of the Hogwarts Four!_" The sarcasm in Ryan's voice couldn't be heard only by the deaf.

He had to admit he was conflicted on the subject, while the mage did not care about Salazar Slytherin being Voldemort's ancestor and a muggle-hating bastard, he _did _care about this wizard recreating soul separation technique and thus indirectly butchering his Apprentce's soul.

"I repeat, what do you want here, boy! Don't think that I didn't recognize you! I don't know what you did to change your magical signature so drastically but that won't help you!"

"My-my, you are the first to recognize me, you have my respect."

"And you don't have mine! You killed Eliza!!!"

"I think I'll hazard a guess and say that this Eliza was the Basilisk inhabiting the chamber?"

"_Yessss..._" hissed out Salazar in Parseltongue, his eyes flashing. It seemed, that the only thing preventing him from throttling Flhoyer was his state of being as a portrait and the threatening concentration of magic in the intruder's right arm.

"_I am sorry._"

"You are sorry?! Why didn't you talk to Eliza in Parseltongue, why didn't you order her to stand down?! She would have obeyed a parselmouth."

"Wait, wasn't her obedience restricted to the Slytherin bloodline?"

"Foolish boy, you already were my heir through Tom. It doesn't matter whether the heirship passes down through blood or magic."

"Well sorry, I obviously didn't know that!" Ryan had to admit that he felt a bit guilty but also justifiably angry. "I hadn't got the time then to contemplate the possibility!"

"Yesss, so shouting at the Basilisk to stop in Parseltongue was beyond your mental capabilities but running around the sewers and then slaughtering sixty two feet and five inches snake wasn't beyond your physical ones? I see how it is..."

"Look, you must understand that I didn't do that on purpose, and anyway I didn't come here to argue with you. I have questions concerning your heir. Tom Riddle."

"I am listening," acquiesced Slytherin to the temporary truce.

"_Did you invent Horcruxes?_" hissed Ryan in anger.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. What of it?"

"Because currently I am trying to reverse the damage your heir inflicted upon his magical core and his soul. What were you thinking? Dabbling in such outrageous magic?!"

"What's wrong with creating a Horcrux and insuring one's chances of survival?" asked Slytherin in puzzlement.

"Well, not taking into account heinous crimes one must commit in order to conduct the ritual, absolutely nothing, but creating SEVEN Horcruxes is certainly a problem!"

"Seven?!" the man's face was in equal parts horrified and awed. "Seven? That... That's impossible..."

"It is possible, as seeing from the example, but the side-effects include one's magical core instability and insanity."

"Tom isn't insane!" protested the wizard weekly.

"And when was the last time you had seen him?"

"Some time ago..." admitted Slytherin. "But what interests me is why do you even care about what happens to dear Tom? For all I know, you'll use the knowledge I give you to hunt down and destroy his Horcruxes and ultimately kill my blood heir!"

"Death would still be an improvement over his current state, but no, I don't plan this. After all, killing one's Apprentice is not ethical."

"Oh please! Tom Riddle as your Apprentice? Don't make me laugh!"

"It is true! I am the Master Mage after all!"

"Master Mage? Now that is getting even more unbelievable, this title was mostly lost and forgotten already in my time. Though, I was lucky to know one. Show me the markings!"

Ryan stared at the portrait incredulously. "You know, there is always a possibility of acquiring the necessary information by force..."

"Oh, come on, don't be shy! I have seen it all! Or are you lying?"

The mage grunted and began to undress. The robe slipped on the floor and a black t-shirt soon followed. He reluctantly loosened the belt and lowered the trousers a bit, turning his back to the portrait.

"Happy?" Ryan asked through the clenched teeth. When Appreticeship was a common place the mastership marks were usually tattooed on face, neck or arms, not lower back. But times changed and that was no longer safe, so Master Sohhare decided to place the markings of his Apprentices on the less open surfaces.

"Interesting... I know the Triangle of Three Forces, that's standard, and Hell's Pentacle must be the mark for Summoner, but what does a spiderweb mean?"

Flhoyer ignored the question putting the t-shirt back on, but leaving the robe on the floor. He sat casually in one of the two armchairs in the room and stared back at the musing portrait.

"Now that this is out of the way, let's get back to business… Can one integrate the soul piece into the main soul without body dying and conducting the resurrection ritual?"

"It can be done, yes. The original resurrection ritual can be slightly adjusted and you will get the desired result."

"So... do you have anything here? Scroll, book, parchment – where is it that you stored your Horcrux research? I reckon Tom must have gotten his information from you."

"It is the eighth book on the right on the third shelve from the floor. Look up the resurrection ritual and I'll help you with the adjustments..."

Ryan stood up and headed towards the bookshelf but stopped mid-movement.

"You know, you are being suddenly very trusting and cooperative. Have the markings had such a great effect on you?"

"Not really, but if he really made _seven_ Horcruxes, then even if you kill him, there will be no big loss. And by the way, you cannot carry any books from my quarters, so I suggest taking notes."

"Whyever not?"

"I'd like to preserve the library for future generations."

"What future generations?"

"Your kids, Tom's progenies..."

"We'll see if your library is truly worth something for future generations. Hm-m... I don't even know if Tom's body is still fertile after all his experiments, though I can guarantee it is sexually active." Ryan grimaced remembering one of the many scenes involving Riddle and Lestrange in various positions he was unlucky enough to walk on.

"I see," Slytherin looked at him strangely. "That can certainly explain a few things..."

"What are you... Oh! Whatever you are imagining, don't. I just have the misfortune of having two Apprentices at once, who are very much amorously in tune with each other. It..." The mage had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from going into the full-blown rant about how much migraine such a situation causes for those Apprentices' Master. "So... where were we?


	20. Chapter 20

**AN:** Hello guys and gals! Another short chapter posted. But I plan to post the next one, which hopefully will be longer than this one in the next few days.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

The utensils clinked rhythmically on the plates, the sound creating a peaceful and homey atmosphere. Despite the delicious food and relaxing air, Remus couldn't help but occasionally glance at Ryan. When his plate emptied, he finally asked:

"Is there really a lily snake on your shoulders or is my old age finally getting to me?"

"There is. And you aren't old, don't be coy," Ryan glared half-heartedly at his godfather. He still felt the bruises from the latest thorough beating session, that was for some inane reason called training. "Her name's Mauvi by the way."

Remus snorted and looked at the young man incredulously.

"Who names a mauve-colored snake Mauvi?!"

Ryan smiled. Apparently, both inventing passwords and naming things weren't Tom Riddle's ancestor's forte.

"Salazar Slytherin."

"Hm-m…" The werewolf peered at the snake, now even more curious than before. "You mean to tell me that this snake is a thousand years old?"

"Cool, isn't it?"

"It is quite fascinating. How did you acquire such a pet? Or is it your familiar now?"

"No, definitely not familiar. The snakey is just clingy. You can call Mauvi my private stalker." Ryan just grinned at the angered hissing coming from his shoulder. "Besides, I already have a familiar - Hedwig. Though, I still don't know how to get her back without suspicion. She is living with 'Mione now, right?"

"She is. And by the way, have you decided what you will do about your friends?"

"_Should_ I do anything at all?" This was one of the hardest questions Ryan had yet to answer.

"They think you died. They miss you."

"I am dead…" seeing the glare directed at him by his godfather the mage quickly corrected himself. "…In a way."

"Regardless. Don't _you_ miss them?"

Ryan sighed and raked his hand through the messy hair. "Actually, not as much as I would have expected… I long for them like one longs for the childhood that eventually has to end. I have good memories of them, I just don't see myself going back to being the light heroic little Harry, the brave and naive child that I once was."

"You are being selfish if you think you are the only one who changed during this time. You should talk to them. At the very least, you could let them get to know your new self - without telling them about your real past."

"I'll think about it. Still, I won't be able to do it before September."

"It is your decision," Remus reassured. "I merely point out that you have some unresolved issues."

"Plenty of them, actually…"

"Hm-m… You still haven't answered how you got the snake."

"I met her in the Forbidden Forest. She helped me to get to the Chamber of Secrets."

"Ah-h. So that's where you disappeared to today…"

"Yep."

"Anything interesting?"

"Yep, one grumpy portrait of one Hogwarts founder, a library, and one priceless Basilisk corpse – perfectly preserved… Oh, and did you know, that I am now immune to poisons?" Ryan inquired brightly, looking in fake wonder at his wrist. Remus narrowed his eyes at seeing two puncture wounds on his godson's arm.

"Are you?"

"Yep. According to my favorite henchsnake that bite should have knocked me unconscious for three hours. Naturally, I just became pissed and more awake than ever. Apparently, this tolerance is the side-effect from that Basilisk bite back in the second year."

"I didn't know you were bitten by a Basilisk…" Remus said, his eyes widening in shock.

"Really?" Ryan looked surprised. "Well… No big deal, I believe I _might_ have omitted the part about almost dying and Fawkes healing me the last second, in the misguided attempt to appear tough and not to worry my friends and Mrs. Weasley…"

Ryan took in the mixed emotions on the werewolf's face – a boiling pot of anger, pity and fear, and decided to retreat.

"Well, I'm off! There are dickens to summon, people to spy on, Apprentices to torture. Ta!"

Apprentices? Spying? What the hell was going on with Ryan?! Remus groaned, resting the face in his hands. And he used to think that Sirius-James Duo was trouble. Despite being one person, his godson was proving to be even more troublesome. Well, his life certainly won't get dull at this rate. Perhaps, he really should start researching the werewolf rights, as the mage suggested. He shuddered to think about how exactly Ryan would approach the topic, had the matter been left to his devices.

* * *

Somewhere on the other plane of existence a red-furred creature ran through the wilderness of ash and stone. Its strong four legs and sharp teeth clearly indicated it as a predator. This being loosely resembled a proud lion, except that where the lion's mane ended at corpus, this creature's mane stopped being a mane and covered its whole body except its muzzle, legs and bare tail with switch.

The lion-like being suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. Something was wrong. This wretched feeling was familiar but it couldn't exactly place it.

No… It couldn't be… Not again! The hot wind of the plane intensified and brought whispers… _Thee… Lefus… Come…_ _Lefus… Lefus, Lefus! _

There was no place to hide.

"NO!!! Not again!.. Fuck this fucking su…"

The creature's desperate roar's last words were lost to this world and the body of the poor being was engulfed in flames and disappeared without trace. There weren't even ashes left.

The wilderness, however, was not as devoid of life as it appeared from the first glance. A humanoid figure watched the happening from atop a large rock, its sharp eyes picking and dissecting in its mind every detail. The figure grinned crazily.

At last! He was waiting for so long… So many centuries of boredom and waiting had finally come to an end.

* * *

**AN:**

**RRW**, well, I doubt that it is the correct old-English spelling, I just conveniently used "sowl" to cover the holes in the plot, such as why Ryan hadn't found this text when he first searched through the library with the word "soul" as an operative. Though, at the time there were so many dialects, that I could have guessed right.

As to how the DL couldn't know about his soul being ripped… Well, I suppose before his memory was blocked, he knew about that, but didn't really care or haven't seen his core to fully realize the consequences. And then his memories were blocked for Apprenticeship and that's that.

By the way, I took the time and checked the source about Eliza. And Harry really didn't try anything to stop the Basilisk. In fact, he didn't talk to the snake AT ALL. Funny that… So I'm free to exploit this hole in the plot. ;)

**Zalepotter**, hm-m. I guess he did, didn't he? And it won't be all fun and roses and too. And his cockiness will get him in trouble. But about that in the later chapters…

**NelliGirl**, thanks. I am glad you liked my take on Slytherin, I didn't want to make him all nice and fluffy, as sometimes fanfics show him. Ryan… well, hopefully some kind of personality is forming, though I don't really stop to think about it.

**lady sakura cosmos**, thanks.

**Sylkie**, thankssss. I am glad you liked my attempts at humour. =)))

**AZNsexinezz**, first of all, I do not insinuate anything about today's society and I won't argue here about the good and bad sides of the left and right points of view. This is a fanfiction site, for god's sake!… Secondly, I don't follow politics at all, so if something in my story touched a nerve… - can't be helped. Thirdly, you make generalizations and assumptions like – harry destroys buildings 'cause the society is becoming weaker. WTF? How do you get that? The burning down of the Ollivander's shop was more of a personal matter. And it was A building. Do you see him going on on a further rampage? Anyway, you are entitled to your own opinion, even if I don't agree with it. No harm done.

**miss quirky bookworm**, glad you like Mauvi. =) And Ryan drank his potion sometime before venturing into the Forbidden Forest.

Ryan wasn't allowed to the chambers because Slytherin's portrait was feeling bitchy, and this portrait's consciousness can grant or deny access.

**abbyagapao**, thanks!

**disgruntledfairy**, thanks! And yes, Draco will appear either in the next chapter or the next one after that.

Wow, the part about the impressive vocabulary happens to be the indirect praise to my own vocabulary, which is honestly very flattering. I am glad that you liked the interaction between Ryan and Salazar! =)

**animehphantom**, thanks!

**DEDMUN**, thanks! There will be some headway… well, somewhere around the next 10 chapters. =))) Though, I can't promise frequent updates. Right now, I'm really loaded at the university. But the more pressured I feel, the more I want to write, so maybe I'll update more frequently despite my lack of time. =)

**America C.**, thanks for your opinion. All your points are valid. I do feel that I neglect the romance part of the story but I can't really help how it goes. I can control only so much about the story. The original plot is dead, only artifacts remain, but that was pretty much the point, because I wanted to twist and change Rowling's world to my heart's content. Hope, you won't be disappointed in the future.

**Potter29,** glad you appreciate it. _Grin_

**Shivani**, thanks. The goal was to amuse the readers, and myself, so I am glad it was achieved, at least with the 7th chapter. ;)


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Flhoyer sat patiently on his folded legs and gazed at the painted with the chalk-stone and cranberry syrup pentagram. He was dressed in the long loose white silk robe with the currently raised hood. Countless sewn-in pearls glittered from the cloth in the torches' uneven lighting. Well, in all honesty the number of pearls was actually counted and noted down in the bill from the shop where he ordered this wonder-cloak, not that he cared to remember this useless bit of information, he was more concerned with the total amount of galleons at the bottom of the receipt.

The part of the cave system that Ryan currently occupied was heavily warded by himself. He took all the possible precautions to defend himself and the area against his own summonnings in case anything went wrong. Such strange ingredients as cranberry syrup and such extravagant attire as the pearl-robe were discovered through trial and error and some unholy experiments on his summonings, or more precisely _a_ summoning.

Finally the pentagram's lines flared with fire and in the center of the circle appeared the most peculiar creature - the red fluffy mini-lion, called Lefus, whose shoulder height reached two feet maximum. He was the subject of his first attempts at summoning and later on experimenting with the likes and dislikes of the Underworld inhabitants. For example, pearls proved to absorb the emitted malevolent demon energy and cranberry syrup invoked an allergic reaction in his summonings. He still hadn't defined what element of the syrup acted as an allergen – the cranberry part or one of the various chemicals used in the syrup production. Ryan, though, was not certain that the same deterrents would work on different Underworld apparitions, whether dickens, demons, or archdemons. There had to be similarities but only the trial and error method could help to single them out.

The main problem with being a Summoner was the severe lack of information. The few grimoires that Ryan had read were short. Apparently the life of the owners was of the same length proportion. This Calling was considered dangerous for a reason. One must be cautious when dealing with the Underworld. That's why the number of creatures he summoned to date was four and none of his summonings were notorious or very powerful. His favorite was, of course, the dickens Lefus.

"…mmoner! Bloody bastarrr… Oh…" Lefus looked around and his black eyes with yellow slit pupil zeroed on the mage.

"Welcome back, my favorite fluff-ball. How are you doing?" Ryan smirked under his hood.

"Being better," growled out the dickens. "What do you want, Summoner?!"

"I want many things… But as about what I want from you... Are you able to track pieces of a split soul?"

"Well, it really depends on the circumstances such as distance, number of pieces, the time required…"

"Can you or can you not?" Ryan interrupted the babbling.

* * *

"Not really," Lefus sat on his haunches staring wide-eyed at the freaky Summoner. He was nothing like the stories usually told about them – monsters, torturing the summoned apparitions into submission by causing pain. No, _this_ Summoner was much more creative and it didn't bode well for one to disobey him. The last time he tried he was sent back to Kymala _(local name for the Underworld)_ with his fur pink-coloured. No, the Summoner did nothing to physically torture him directly, but that couldn't be said about both moral and physical humiliation and pain he had to endure from the other dickens once they saw his new outlook. The next time Lefus was summoned and his natural colour returned he became much better behaved.

"Are you sure?" the white figure asked disappointed.

"Very."

"And who can?"

"The most demons I believe would be able to do that though not those of the lower standing. Middle-level power demons."

"Anyone in particular?"

"Are you sure you are ready to die, Summoner? Not that I care all that much, but you must realize that M-Class demons cannot be compared to myself, you won't get away unscathed from summoning one of them."

"I am just asking…"

"You really would be better off seeking those soul pieces by some of your conventional magical methods, Summoner."

"I know that, I am just pressured in time. So, name? Or do I have to read another PG-rated cheesy novel to you?"

Lefus shuddered. That was exactly what he meant by creative torture.

"Well, I know about Azarus. He is not the brightest one in the fold, but capable of the task."

"Thank you, Lefus."

"You are quite welcome. Perhaps, you'll finally kill yourself and free me from this tenancy."

"Now-now, that is not a nice thing to say. And here I thought to grant you a day on Earth…"

"You… you would?!" the dickens was shocked and disbelieving.

"There would have been conditions, of course… Well, anyway, that's beside the point now, as I see that you are too mean to favor you over my other summonings…"

"Hey, Summoner, there's no need to be so judgmental. I was just worried about your well-being and trying to instill some reasonable fear in your numb-skull!"

"Suuure…"

"Oh, please!" scoffed Lefus. "Don't play the offended part here! What are the conditions?"

"Very well…" the long-suffering sigh that followed sounded absolutely fake. The summoner really didn't put his heart into his little performance. "First of all, you'll have to spy as long as you have to on one mage Ollivander to find out whether he has a grimoire or another storage of all the information he gathered during his too long life. All that inconspicuously, of course. After completing the task, you will be able to stay on Earth for 24 hours, but you will be free only to observe, and not interfere, see, but not touch, and you must not be discovered."

Lefus grinned. "You have yourself a deal, Summoner."

From what he heard from the Summoner, Earth had changed a lot during the hundreds of years that the two realms had no contact. This excursion would be a well-deserved reward.

* * *

Draco greeted Ryan as soon as he stepped through the Floo. He hoped that today their meeting will be less business-like and he will have more time to spend with his chosen mate. The manor tour seemed like a convenient excuse to do that.

Well, at the very least his student seemed at ease in his company. Draco chose to get the tutoring out of the way first and then work more closely on wrapping the net of careful seduction around Ryan.

"Are you free today for that manor tour?" asked Draco as soon as they finished another potion in the laboratory.

Ryan extinguished the fire and carefully bottled up the Dreamless Sleep potion, which was, of course, perfect. He seemed to contemplate the proposition briefly.

"Yes, I don't have any engagements to attend to. If it won't be a lot of trouble…"

"No, no trouble at all. I quite enjoy your company, Ryan."

The object of his desire smiled wryly. "As do I. Shall we?.." Ryan gestured vaguely in the direction of the door.

"Of course. Are you hungry? We can have some lunch if you wish too."

"I would like that."

"Pinkle!" At Draco's call his favorite house-elf popped into existence.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

"Please, arrange a lunch for two in the forest dining room."

"Right away, Master Draco."

-0987654321

And that is where his plans suffered a drastic change. What he had planned to be a semi-romantic lunch for two, turned out to be an unofficial introduction of his chosen candidate to his parents.

The dining room in itself was a masterpiece with wall-paintings depicting a sunset of the sparse pine-tree forest and furniture with wooden leave carvings and the material - an elegant blending of warm green and gold colours. In Draco's mind this sight was meant to induce Ryan into the mild state of awe. In contrast, when they arrived, the dark-haired beauty just had the chance to glance at the splendor before his eyes stopped at the regal pair already situated at the small dining table.

"Mother, Father, it is surprise to see you here."

His father smiled faintly. "Isn't it, Draco? A wonderful coincidence it is. Narcissa and I just happened to decide to have our lunch in this soothing room... Why don't you introduce us to your guest?"

"Of course. Ryan, the man you see is my father Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and the fair lady is my mother Narcissa Black Malfoy. Father, Mother, my companion is known as Lord Ryan Lilland Flhoyer."

Ryan who looked absolutely calm and cool, anything but surprised, bowed lower his head and bending his back just a bit. For a moment, Draco felt envy. From what he saw he was the only one here agonizing about the impromptu introduction.

"It is great pleasure to meet with the parents of Draco. You raised him well."

"I should hope so," nodded Lucius. "Please, join us in our meal."

And so they did. The whole affair seemed a bit stiff, in Draco's opinion, but he was wise enough not to voice or otherwise express that opinion. Narcissa, who had finally regained her charming manners, was having some small talk with Ryan about insignificant things, while his father was mostly silently judging the new arrival, gauging his manners, state of dress (which while smart was not much to talk about, but that was an oversight Draco planned to correct in the future), and cutting the easy-going conversation with sharp questions, like what were Ryan's plans for the future – spreading knowledge, how old he was – seventeen; how did he feel about the current political situation in the Wizarding Britain – abysmal, even muggles weren't as pathetic in their attempts at intrigue.

Thankfully, his father didn't latch onto the muggle aspect of the conversation. Perhaps, the Second War events really changed his view on a number of things.

"Just out of curiosity, how would you describe the wizarding world of Britain in general?" asked Lucius provocatively.

Ryan, of course, answered without hesitation. Did he actually practice an answer to that question?

"Illogical, brain-washed and stagnant."

"Quite a young idealist you are, aren't you?"

"Quite," again Ryan didn't even blink.

"Perhaps, you even want to change it?.." Lucius proposed lightly.

"Perhaps. There is always hope."

"Hm-m."

Seeing that the plates were already abandoned in lieu of the conversation and deciding that enough was enough, Draco turned to his father and proclaimed decisively:

"I believe it is the time we left you to finish this delicious lunch, as I still have to give my guest the tour of the Manor." The young veela's eyes drilled holes in his father's face.

"Of course, my son. I hope, you will enjoy our Manor, Lord Flhoyer."

Ryan folded the napkin and carefully put it near his empty plate. "I have no doubt about that. It was a pleasure meeting you, Lord Malfoy, Lady Narcissa…"

Finally! Draco escorted Ryan out of the room, throwing a not so subtle glare over his back at Lucius who just gazed back at him with his trademark stony expression. The Malfoy heir narrowed his eyes, conveying a message that they would have to talk about this meeting later on.

The rare smile found his way onto the patriarch's face, and Draco was confused as to what it could mean. One thing he wasn't proficient at interpreting was Malfoy's smiles. Smirks and poker faces – these expressions he was much more familiar with. Later…


End file.
